by Guy Lawson
This was Mihail Delijorgji. Diveroli and Podrizki then turned to see a young man around their age sitting in the corner. Dressed in a baseball cap and a sweater, he had dark hair, a soft chin, and sharklike eyes. He wasn’t introduced. This was Shkëlzen Berisha, the son of the prime minister of Albania, they would later be told by Pinari. Shkëlzen was part of what was known in Albania as “the family,” the tight-knit and extremely dangerous group that surrounded and lived at the beneficence of the prime minister, Sali Berisha.
Delijorgji didn’t speak English, so Pinari translated Diveroli’s reasons for wanting a price reduction. Diveroli’s brash manner disappeared, as did his idea of cutting Thomet out of the deal. Diveroli and Podrizki were obviously in the presence of seriously connected men. Diveroli’s complexion turned pale. Now his main complaint was that the vast majority of the rounds AEY was buying had steel casings. Brass casings were much more valuable, Diveroli claimed. Steel casings damaged the barrels of weapons, shortening their life span. Diveroli wanted to pay 3.7 cents a round.
Delijorgji said that if Diveroli wanted a discount he would have to change the arrangements for the repacking operation at the airport. If AEY was going to pay less for the ammo, the money would have to be made up another way—by giving the contract to repack to Delijorgji’s company. The son of the prime minister remained silent. Henri Thomet’s name was never mentioned. Nor was the fact that Diveroli knew MEICO was selling the rounds to Thomet for just over two cents a round.
Diveroli and Podrizki departed.
“That guy looked stupid enough to be dangerous,” Diveroli said of Delijorgji.
“Did we just get out of a meeting with the Albanian mafia?” Podrizki joked.
“Absolutely. Absofuckinglutely.”
Diveroli’s swagger began to fade. He didn’t say it out loud, but he was clearly scared. The dudes went to a local casino to gamble, and Diveroli pounded down his usual massive portion of alcohol. As ever, Diveroli acted the big shot, boasting about the contracts he was winning in Iraq and how gunrunning was a great business.
As the pair left the casino, Diveroli was anxious. The booze and bravado hadn’t calmed him. He didn’t want to be alone. He insisted that Podrizki sleep on the foldout couch in his hotel room. Who knew what the Albanian gangsters were capable of?
The next morning, Kosta Trebicka was pacing in the lobby of the Sheraton, desperate to hear about Diveroli’s meetings the day before. As ever eager to please, Trebicka provided a BMW and a driver for the rest of Diveroli’s stay in Albania. Trebicka would also supply an attractive young woman for Diveroli’s pleasure, an offer the young arms dealer gladly accepted.
Diveroli could have told Trebicka the truth about his encounter with Delijorgji: AEY would get a discount on the AK-47 rounds only if Delijorgji’s company took over the repacking job—cutting Trebicka out of the deal. But Diveroli did what he’d become accustomed to doing: he dissembled. Diveroli said he’d been taken to a “hidden” place and threatened. The Albanians had said he’d be killed if he didn’t go along with Thomet and Evdin as the middlemen. Diveroli told Trebicka that Ylli Pinari of MEICO had warned him to keep his mouth shut because the prime minister’s son had been in the meeting.
Trebicka was outraged—something had to be done. He readily agreed to try to help Diveroli escape the clutches of men he considered gangsters. Trebicka arranged a meeting with an official in the Albanian Ministry of Defense who could supposedly help. But it turned out that the official was far too young and junior to do anything. Trebicka obviously wasn’t as connected as he believed.
As they were driven through the busy streets of Tirana, Diveroli started to look even more nervous, it seemed to Podrizki. Diveroli was obviously out of his element. He hadn’t been physically threatened, despite the tale he’d told Kosta Trebicka, but the risks of being in Albania were self-evident. If the wrong person was crossed, it would be easy to have someone killed and have it made to look like an accident. Sitting in the backseat of the car, Diveroli announced he wanted to leave Albania the next day. He dispatched Podrizki to the local travel agent to change his flight.
Trebicka had planned for Diveroli to meet with US Embassy officials, so they went for a sit-down in the lobby of the Sheraton. The diplomat Robert Newsome was in his late forties or early fifties and gave off the aura of being involved in the intelligence world. Newsome was with military attaché Victor Myev, a former soldier turned diplomat nearing retirement age—the man Podrizki had talked to on the phone weeks earlier.
Diveroli laid out the scam—or the slightly fictionalized version he was willing to share with the government officials. Diveroli said the Albanians were using a Cypriot company run by a Swiss arms dealer to charge AEY nearly double the real price for 100 million rounds of AK-47. Diveroli said his company was caught up in Albanian corruption. He described the meeting the day before, with the prime minister’s son and Mihail Delijorgji, who were controlling the contract to sell the ammo. Diveroli said that he’d been told that if he didn’t pay bribes he wouldn’t be able to get delivery of the ammo, which would imperil America’s ability to arm the Afghans.
The story wasn’t entirely true. He shaded certain inconvenient facts, like the possibility that selling Albanian-Chinese ammo was against the law. Or the reality that AEY had yet to pay MEICO for any of the rounds, which would explain the delays in delivery. Or that he’d cut Kosta Trebicka out of the deal. In essence, Diveroli didn’t want to disclose that he was actually trying to get a better price from the Albanians, instead casting himself as the innocent victim of corruption.
Victor Myev and Robert Newsome listened with great interest. If what Diveroli described was true, the United States faced a potential diplomatic crisis involving the Albanian prime minister. Albania was on the cusp of membership in NATO. What Diveroli was alleging meant that corruption traveled to the highest reaches of the government. The American diplomats promised to make inquiries and do what they could to assist Diveroli with the delivery of the ammo.
After the meeting, Myev wrote an e-mail to Andrew Winternitz in the Policy section of Defense Secretary Gates’s office in Washington, DC. “Ammo for Afghanistan” was the subject line. “I want to report a meeting we just had to see if you have any insight you might share with us,” Myev began. He explained the dubious structure of AEY’s Albanian deal and described how Diveroli had approached the embassy for support.
“Although we would normally not get involved in a contract negotiation like this, the element of supporting our efforts in Afghanistan, coupled with Albania’s increasing support of NATO efforts there, makes us wonder if we might not want to at least show our presence.
“Any thoughts?”
“Sounds like the prologue for a good spy novel,” Winternitz replied within hours. “CONFIDENTIAL” was written in large letters at the top of the e-mail, a document that would later be placed under seal by a federal judge. As a senior official, Winternitz wondered at the cloak-and-dagger nature of the situation. He made it clear he understood crucial geopolitical issues were at stake.
“As for insight, if Albania could provide the ammunition, it would be one more good data point that Albania is becoming a provider of international security rather than a consumer,” Winternitz wrote.
The message was clear: the contract was a win-win-win, for America, Albania, and Afghanistan.
Robert Newsome likewise reached out to two senior officials in the State Department. The level of importance given to the e-mail on the government’s closed-circuit system was “High.”
“We have a Florida company here called AEY that has a Department of Defense contract to provide Soviet and Chinese arms to the Afghan government,” Newsome wrote. “The validity of the contract has been verified. AEY contacted us because they are having problems (‘informality’ issues) with MEICO.”
“Informality” was a reference to corruption allegations. Newsome said the embassy wouldn’t intervene on AEY’s behalf unless a request came from
higher authorities in State or Defense.
“We’re bringing this to your attention as AEY has a legitimate contract to provide arms to the Afghan government and the implications this might have for Coalition efforts in Afghanistan.”
Newsome concluded, “Please respond on the classified side as you deem appropriate.”
No further replies or guidance came from Washington—or if they did, the documents remain classified.
/ / / / /
On the far side of the Atlantic Ocean, in AEY’s modest headquarters in Miami Beach, David Packouz had finally obtained all the permissions necessary to ship 5 million rounds of AK-47 ammo from Hungary to Afghanistan. On the evening of May 24, 2007, while his friends were gambling and drinking in a casino in Albania, Packouz received an e-mail from AEY’s freight forwarder confirming that a cargo plane carrying eighty pallets of AK-47 ammunition had taken off and was banking east over the Black Sea toward Kyrgyzstan.
Relieved, Packouz drove home to his condo in the Flamingo, smoked a bowl of weed with his new electronic Volcano, and headed to a place called Sushi Samba for dinner. In the middle of the meal, AEY’s freight forwarder called from New York to tell Packouz that the Hungarian AK-47 ammo had been seized in Kyrgyzstan. The rounds were being held hostage, the freight forwarder explained in a panicked voice, and the Kyrgyz KGB was demanding payment of $300,000 for every day the goods remained at the airport in Bishkek. Stoned, baffled, once again in over his head like his buddies in Albania, Packouz stepped outside to get away from the restaurant’s pounding music.
“Tell the Kyrgyz KGB that ammo needs to get to Afghanistan,” he shouted at the freight forwarder. “This contract is part of a vital mission in the global war on terrorism. Tell them that if they fuck with us they’re fucking with the government of the United States!”
/ / / / /
Packouz reached Diveroli in the middle of the night, Albanian time. The prostitute supplied by Kosta Trebicka was slumbering next to him in bed. As Packouz told him what had happened, Diveroli told Packouz to contact the embassy in Bishkek to enlist the support of the military attaché.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get back to fucking this hooker,” Diveroli concluded with fake aplomb.
In the morning, Diveroli circulated an e-mail to the company’s minuscule team: “URGENT/STRATEGIES REGARDING THE KYRGYZSTAN SITUATION, Please work on this immediately!!!!!!” Diveroli outlined the questions that needed to be answered. “WE MUST SEND AN OFFICIAL SIGNED REQUEST ON LETTERHEAD TO THE AMERICAN EMBASSY AND THE AMBASSADOR REQUESTING THEIR IMMEDIATE INTERVENTION!!!!!!!!”
Arriving at Diveroli’s hotel, Podrizki shook his head as he watched the now frantic arms dealer yell and scream instructions back to Miami. Diveroli wanted AEY to write an e-mail to the Kyrgyz military that was forged to look as if it came from the US military—the dudes could threaten all kinds of dire consequences that way. Podrizki was sure that Diveroli’s juvenile shenanigans, and his reflexive way of trying to lie his way out of trouble, wouldn’t work. The Kyrgyz weren’t going to be fooled by a kid in panic mode. The same was true of the Albanians they were dealing with. Arms dealing wasn’t a game, as Diveroli apparently believed it was. Again, Podrizki told Diveroli that the problem was political and that he ought to invest some of the money he’d made acquiring “friends” who could help. Podrizki explained that AEY needed a senator or a congressman to make calls on their behalf. Diveroli needed to “share the spoils” from his gunrunning business, through political contributions, if he was going to get what he wanted. It was how the system worked. Diveroli looked at Podrizki like he was an idiot and went back to ranting at Packouz to get the American embassy to intervene.
At noon, Diveroli headed for Tirana’s airport. Podrizki accompanied him. When they reached customs, Diveroli embraced Podrizki, a strong hug that seemed meant to convey both respect for his bravery and concern for his safety.
“I’ll send you a ballistics vest and a pistol when I get back to Miami,” Diveroli promised.
The bulletproof vest never arrived. Nor did the handgun. Podrizki was on his own once again.
/ / / / /
In Miami Beach, the days that followed were a blur. Packouz contacted the military officer in the US Embassy in Bishkek—a Colonel Plumb. Packouz put on his best military voice as he explained that the plane had been seized because AEY supposedly didn’t have the correct paperwork.
“It’s a very serious problem,” Packouz told Colonel Plumb. “We have a 747 loaded with five million rounds of 7.62x39 ammo bound for the Afghan army. The Kyrgyz are telling us they’re going to charge us three hundred thousand dollars per day for every day the aircraft stays on the runway—at the same time as they’re not allowing the plane to leave. It’s extortion. It’s going to destroy our business. But more importantly, it’s stopping munitions from getting to our allies and hurting a crucial mission in the global war on terrorism.”
“Three hundred thousand dollars a day.” Colonel Plumb whistled. “Holy cow. We’ve never had a problem with the Kyrgyz before. We’re constantly shipping stuff to Afghanistan through here. There are never any fees. We pay them enough damn rent to use the air base as it is. Let me make some calls and get back to you.”
“You’re a lifesaver, sir. Thank you!”
Soon after, Colonel Plumb reported to Packouz that the Russians had been involved in the “precoordination” of the flight—meaning they’d arranged to disrupt the American shipment. “We don’t have clear visibility into what they are currently doing, and what they are planning on doing,” Plumb wrote to the dozen or more Army officers now assisting in getting AEY’s ammo released. “We are trying to determine exactly what the Kyrgyz concerns are.”
Packouz was learning that intentions were rarely declared in the opaque world of gunrunning. Duplicity, double-dealing, hidden motives, were the everyday reality. The American embargo on Russian arms had denied Putin’s proxies a lucrative payday on the Afghan deal. The Russians had considered the ban tantamount to a declaration of war. Now that the American contractor was trying to fulfill the deal, Putin was having his revenge—and doing it in an exquisitely deniable way.
AEY’s woes weren’t the only concern for the US government in Kyrgyzstan. The airport in Bishkek was a strategic staging point for the war in Afghanistan. Stopping to refuel before traveling on to Afghanistan was a necessity for many cargo planes; the airport also provided a safe haven to manage cargo away from the perils of Kabul’s besieged tarmac. It was imperative the dispute be resolved promptly. Defense Secretary Robert Gates traveled to Bishkek to get AEY’s ammo released, and the Americans quickly agreed to double the rent they were paying to use the airport.I
Both Packouz and Diveroli were used to telling Army officials they dealt with that they were working on a “contract vital to the global war on terror.” Packouz had regarded this rhetorical trick as slightly comic in its feigned hyperpatriotism. But now Packouz could see it was true. AEY’s munitions would be released and delivered to Kabul weeks later, though he could only guess at what had happened behind closed doors. He was still a kid, but Packouz could feel himself at the center of world events in a way he’d never imagined—and that he was ill prepared for.
The vast divide between the complexities of the task AEY was undertaking and the naïveté of AEY’s staff was beginning to dawn on the Army’s procurement officers in Rock Island. In the middle of the Kyrgyz crisis, a memorandum was drafted by the civilian in charge of AEY’s contract to put the company on notice that the seizure had caused a stir in the Pentagon—all the way up to the secretary of defense. “Because of this incident, we have received concerns that this type of incident may happen again in another country and the confidence level in your company’s ability to deliver without incident is very low,” the civilian contracting officer wrote. “You need to be sensitive to the volatile political relations in the region and the relations between the United States and foreign countries.”
But the m
emorandum was never sent, as the civilian’s superiors deemed it inappropriate to scold a contractor in such a manner—even one as transparently unqualified as AEY.
“I never did find out what really happened, or why the plane was seized in the first place,” Packouz recalled. “It was how things were done in international arms dealing. The defense industry and politics were extremely entwined—you couldn’t do business with one without dealing with the other. Your fate depended entirely on political machinations. You didn’t even know whose side you’re on—who you were helping and who you were hurting. There were these shadowy forces out there, and it was obvious there were a lot of perils we didn’t understand.”
* * *
I. Gates described his dealings with the “amazingly corrupt” Kyrgyzstan government as one of the most despicable experiences of his career—but still the American government did business with Kurmanbek Bakiyev, because it had no choice: Duty: Memoirs of a Secretary at War (Knopf, 2014), 194–95.
Chapter Eight
GJAKMARRJA
President George W. Bush arrived in Albania on June 10, 2007. It was the only foreign trip the president dared to take to mark the end of his second term. Fear of mass protests and social unrest had kept Bush from going to even the friendliest nations. Not Albania. It was a quasi national holiday as Bush swept down Rruga Demokracia in Tirana, cheered on by tens of thousands of jubilant Albanians, many dressed in Uncle Sam costumes and waving the Stars and Stripes. Giddy at the genuine affection of his admirers, Bush leaped from his limousine and posed for snapshots—to the dismay of the Secret Service. But no place on earth was safer for an American president than in the ecstatic embrace of the Albanian people as the nation neared the historic milestone of joining NATO.I
