by Terry Toler
Director Coldclaw interjected, “Why doesn’t Bobrinsky shut that operation down? He obviously knows about it as well.”
“Because of the gas pipeline,” Ryan answered. “He doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that deal. He’s getting the natural gas at a discount, so he looks the other way when it comes to the women.”
“Are they trading their women for natural gas?” Brad spoke up. “I don’t understand why he’d worry about losing a natural gas pipeline deal over a few prostitutes. They’re a dime a dozen in Russia.”
“I agree. They’re not tied together. There’s no quid pro quo so to speak. It’s just that the President doesn’t want to do anything to make Yokov mad.”
“How many women are we talking about?” Jamie asked.
“We don’t know exactly, but we believe they could be transporting as many as three hundred women a month to Russia and Turkey.”
Jamie’s mouth flew open. “Any young girls?” she asked. Three hundred women a month was a huge number out of a country the size of Belarus. Unheard of in sex trafficking circles for one country. You can’t just kidnap three hundred women a month, and no one knew about it. Family and friends and local law enforcement would be in an uproar, even in a communist country.
“Not that we know of, but that might be right around the corner,” Ryan reacted.
“How did Turkey get involved in this?” Director Coldclaw asked.
“That’s where it gets interesting. A terrorist group is buying the girls and reselling them to fund terrorism against the United States and its allies. They sell the girls for a substantial profit in the Middle East. Of course, there’s plenty of money in Saudi Arabia, Oman, Qatar, and other Middle eastern countries to pay top dollar for them from oil money.”
Now Jamie understood why the Director was in the meeting. Mention terrorism, and it goes higher up the food chain. Apparently, they were talking substantial money, because the only thing higher than the Director on the food chain was the President himself. If he didn’t know about it, he would shortly after this briefing.
“What do you want me to do?” Jamie asked, showing her impatient side.
Brad answered. “We need more intelligence on the pipeline. We want you to go to Belarus and find out everything you can about their operations. We want names, locations, scope, and particularly the pipeline route if you can uncover it. We’re sending someone to Turkey to see what they can find out there.”
“Are we going to send Jamie to Belarus alone?” Director Coldclaw asked.
Jamie hoped the answer was yes. She worked better when she was alone. Brad looked at Jamie imploring her to not say anything.
“We think it’s best if she goes alone,” Brad said. “We’re sending her there on a tourist visa under an assumed name. We can’t let the government know she’s there, or they might tip off the people running the pipeline. We want Jamie to hang around the casinos in Minsk, and hopefully someone in the pipeline might try to recruit her. Then she can ask questions and act like she might be interested. She can also keep her eyes and ears open and make friends with some of the prostitutes who were recruited into the pipeline but were fortunate enough to stay in Belarus. They might know some of the girls who were shipped off to Russia or Turkey.”
“This sounds really strange to me,” Jamie said. “How do three hundred girls go missing every month, and family and friends don’t say anything about it? Sounds like the intelligence must be wrong. I can’t see how there could be a pipeline that big from kidnapped girls.”
“I agree. I don’t like it.” Director Coldclaw looked at Jamie and nodded. “Something doesn’t seem right to me either. Jamie should have someone there with her for backup support. If the government knows she’s there, they’d protect her. They wouldn’t dare hurt one of our assets. But if they don’t know she’s one of ours, she might get caught up in something. How would we find her and get her out?”
“We have an asset on the ground. Jamie will meet up with him, and he’ll give her the name of the person running the operation,” Bruce said. “Our contact is local and an important asset high up in the government. They don’t know anything about him, so we have to protect him at all cost. It took years to infiltrate that high in the government, and we don’t want to lose him.”
“We’re talking Russian pipelines, which are controlled by oligarchs,” the Director said with a concerned look. “Possible terrorism ties. Hundreds of missing women. This sounds like a lot for Jamie to take on by herself.”
“I’ll be fine.” Jamie retorted confidently. “What are my rules of engagement?” trying to change the subject before the Director changed the plan. Going to Belarus was the perfect mission to put Alex behind her.
Brad said, “You’re not to engage other than to gain information. You’re not authorized to take any action against the group. You just gather intelligence.”
Jamie started to protest, but Brad stared her down and said, “We can talk about that later in my office. We don’t need to waste the Director’s time. You and I can come up with a plan.”
Jamie and Brad had a running battle about that. Jamie argued that if she got close enough to gather information, she was close enough to help the girls. She couldn’t just walk away and leave them in their misery when she had the power to do something about it. He always said it was his call, and she needed to follow his instructions. Jamie thought what she always thought; she’d do whatever she had to do.
Director Coldclaw turned to Jamie and said, “I agree with Brad. This operation is too big for you to try to take down alone. Just find out what you can and get out of there. Brad, you make sure everyone knows she has my full support on this. I don’t want her hanging out there on a rope by herself. She’s too valuable to lose on an intelligence-gathering operation.”
The Director’s words sent a warm feeling through Jamie. A lot of the higher ups were against allowing her to transfer to sex trafficking. Her success in what she was doing before made her bosses reluctant to give her up to what was considered a minor division. Sex trafficking was low on the totem pole of priorities.
Mostly, their objections were self-serving. She had more successful missions under her belt than any other operative and made her bosses look good. Many thought it too great a risk to send her into such dangerous situations for such little rewards as saving a few girls from sex trafficking.
But Jamie insisted and Brad went to bat for her. He made the case that her skills were perfectly suited for snatch and grab. They reluctantly agreed, and Jamie had spent the last three years in the field.
The program was a success and a record number of girls were rescued. A small dent in the overall problem, but progress, nonetheless. Jamie had won over most, if not all, of the skeptics, and more resources were being allocated to her program. Especially since many of the operations ended up revealing bigger and more important security risks like drugs, arms trafficking, and terrorism.
The Director suddenly stood, and everyone knew the meeting was over. She reached across the table and extended her hand to Jamie and said, “Good luck. We’re counting on you. Be careful over there. Belarus and Russia are a lot different than Thailand. You’re going into a dangerous area.”
Jamie shook her hand firmly, looked her directly in the eyes, and said, “You can count on me.”
5
Minsk, Belarus
Jamie had been in Belarus for less than two hours and was already being followed.
She’d actually been in Belarus for six hours, if she counted the four hours of interrogation at the airport by custom’s officials. Not a surprise. Jamie expected trouble getting into Belarus. A single, young, American woman traveling alone on a tourist visa to a former Soviet bloc country would garner scrutiny. That would be suspicious in most eastern countries.
The CIA made sure everything was in perfect order. The fake visa said her name was Allie Walker. Allie was twenty-five, five foot ten, and a hundred fifty-five pounds. The last part wa
s Brad’s attempt at humor. Adding fifteen pounds to her visa was his way of letting Jamie know he had noticed she’d gained a little weight on the cruise. While she did gain nine pounds, by the time he’d seen her, most of the extra pounds had been sweated off in the gym with an intense regimen of kick boxing and running. She’d give him a hard time about the visa the next time she saw him. Rather than ignoring his snarky jokes, she’d come to discover it was his way of staying connected with her. So, she played along without being offended.
The passport showed four stamps. Jamie memorized the dates and locations in case she was asked about them.
She was.
“Tell me about your trips. Where all have you been?” the man had asked, her passport in his hand, head down waiting for her to answer.
“I went to Costa Rica with some girlfriends for spring break,” Jamie said.
The custom’s official didn’t look up; he waited for her to continue. The man was heavy set. He sat in a chair facing her with his legs spread, his belly hanging over his too-small pants, and her papers in his hands in front of him. Each inhale and exhale were more like a wheeze than a breath. Another man stood behind him, watching.
Two armed soldiers stood at the door. Alone in a room with four soldiers would be intimidating to any young woman traveling alone. Jamie tried to show the right amount of nervousness, even though she wasn’t the least bit concerned. Periodically, she’d let her eyes dart, anxiously not furtively. She’d rub her hands together. Crack her knuckles. Fidget with her jewelry. Not like she had anything to hide, but like she was anxious. Unsure about the situation. The appropriate response. She’d spent weeks perfecting it in training and had used it a dozen or more times on missions.
“I went to London with my parents,” Jamie continued. “Rome was where I studied for one semester.” She looked up and to the right like she was thinking. Jamie was careful to not give the signs that she was lying.
“What did you study? What university did you attend? Where did you stay?” The questions came slowly and methodically. The man did not ask accusingly. He played the role as perfectly as she did. He wanted her to relax. Let her guard down. Think it was all routine.
He didn’t bother to write her answers down because the whole thing was being videotaped. Jamie had spotted the hidden cameras almost immediately. Her answers were being scrutinized by someone on the other end of the camera, so Jamie had to make sure there were no inconsistencies.
“Mexico was when I crossed the border for a day trip to Tijuana. I was in San Diego with my boyfriend, Alex.”
Jamie wanted to slap herself in the face. Why did she say Alex was her boyfriend? She hadn’t heard from him and didn’t expect to. She’d broken down and called him before she left. The call went right to voicemail. Her message was friendly but short.
“Hi Alex, this is Jamie. I hope you had a good trip back. Just checking in.”
She tried to sound casual. Indifferent. He’d obviously moved on. He hadn’t even bothered to return her call. She tried to put Alex out of her mind so she could concentrate on the questions. That was the last thing she needed—to get thrown in jail in Belarus and ruin the mission because she was thinking about Alex.
The interrogator asked the same questions over and over again. By the third run through of her passport, Jamie decided to show some impatience. Like she had gained some confidence through the process. No one would sit there for four hours of interrogation without showing some signs of annoyance. Jamie kept looking at her watch. Fidgeting in her chair. She asked to use the restroom. Asked a couple times how much longer it was going to take. Yawned a few times, like she was tired, which she actually was.
This was an important time in the interrogation. If she was hiding something, they wanted her to lose her edge. Forget her previous answers. Mix up the order of the trips. Say something like Costa Rica was before London. “I studied in Florence not Rome. My boyfriend’s name was Andrew, not Alex.” Jamie was too smart, too well trained, although she wished she could go back and change the answer on her boyfriend’s name.
“Excuse me,” she wanted to say, “My boyfriend’s name is Andrew, not Alex. Actually, I don’t have a boyfriend. Alex was never and will never be my boyfriend!”
Instead, she bit her tongue and was ready for it to be over.
In some countries, a few dollars under the table to the custom’s official could avoid all the hassle. Bribery was not an option in Belarus and was the quickest way to get thrown in jail. Jamie had read a lot about the jails in Belarus, and they were someplace she wanted to avoid. So, she just stayed calm and patient and waited it out.
It gave her a chance to practice her lying skills.
“What is the purpose of your trip?” the man asked in broken English.
“I’m a graduate student. Writing a thesis on Belarus. I came here to conduct research.”
“How long do you intend to stay?” He smelled of vodka. He probably took a swig at her last bathroom break.
“Three weeks. But I might extend it longer if necessary.”
“Where are you staying?” He spoke in a slow monotone voice.
“The Monastyrski Hotel.”
“Are you meeting anyone?”
“No. I don’t know anyone in Belarus.”
“Can I search your luggage?”
“Of course.” As if Jamie had a choice. Had she said no, she would’ve been immediately detained and taken to headquarters for further interrogation. Searching the luggage was usually the last thing. It meant the interrogation was about over. They didn’t expect to find anything. Very few people were stupid enough to carry anything illegal into Belarus. A weapon could get you thrown in jail for years with no chance to explain.
Jamie wanted a gun. The CIA had ways to get her a weapon once she was in the field, but Brad had said, “No guns on this mission. Just surveillance. If you have a gun, you’ll be tempted to use it.” It was against the law for foreigners to carry guns in Belarus.
She wasn’t going to spend two weeks in Belarus without a weapon, regardless of what Brad said. She’d find one on her own.
She asked the officials for a map while her luggage was being searched. In case it had been updated, but it hadn’t. The CIA, as usual, had the most updated information. She looked it over anyway.
The eight hour and forty-three-minute flight had taken twelve hours due to a delay from JFK airport. Jamie didn’t mind the extra time. She had spent it learning about Belarus. Studying maps. She wanted to learn every road around the hotel. Look for alleyways. Choke points. Escape routes. Memorize facts about the culture. Practice her Russian. Analyze the risks. She didn’t find many risks. That made her nervous. Every place had risks. She liked to know about them beforehand so there were no surprises.
Belarus was a lovely place and a relatively safe place to visit. Minsk, in particular, was modern and clean, with fashionable cafes, many restaurants, crowded nightclubs, and beautiful architecture and art galleries. However, tourism from the western world had never really caught on. Russia had millions more tourists every year than Belarus.
Most attributed it to the strong police presence. Soldiers were everywhere in downtown Minsk and on almost every corner of the tourist areas. It could be unnerving to an American traveling there for the first time, but they were mostly there for their protection. The benefit was a low crime rate. Even petty crimes were strongly prosecuted. Sentences were harsh and prison conditions even harsher. That made the streets relatively safe to walk, even at night, as long as she stayed in the populated areas.
The president encouraged tourism. He wanted some of the revenue that was going to surrounding countries. As long as people were careful not to make any political statements against the “last remaining dictatorship in Europe,” a traveler could have a wonderful trip to Belarus.
The police presence was Jamie’s biggest concern as well. She liked to be able to move around freely. Avoid scrutiny. Be seen only when she wanted to be noticed. That mad
e it harder when soldiers were on every corner. They’d look her over because she was a young, pretty blonde woman. The only way to avoid it was to stay off the main roads.
She’d read the soldiers were ordered not to stop and interrogate tourists unless there was a strong reason to be suspicious. Another reason not to carry a gun in Belarus. If she was stopped and frisked for some reason, it could create a huge problem for her. A huge problem meaning twenty years of hard labor in a prison camp with no hope of parole.
“You’re free to go,” the man finally said. He handed her passport and visa back to her along with her luggage.
“I hope you have a pleasant trip.”
“Thank you,” she said and quickly gathered her things and walked out of the room.
After she cleared customs, she took a taxi for the forty-five-minute drive to her hotel. The Monastyrski Hotel was in downtown Minsk. Including the twelve-hour flight and the four hours of interrogation, she was running way behind schedule and also running on little sleep, with barely enough time to take a shower and unpack. She was to meet her contact at exactly six o’clock p.m. Belarus time and left the hotel almost immediately to meet him.
As soon as Jamie left the hotel, she noticed the tail almost immediately. The man was short, thin, with dark, bushy eyebrows and mustache. He wore a trench coat, and a ushanka, a Russian fur cap with ear flaps that could be fastened at the top of the hat or at the chin. The evening was still early and not cold. Being overdressed was the first clue the man was trying too hard to be inconspicuous.
The ushanka was a feeble attempt to hide his face. He obviously didn’t want Jamie to see him. Clearly a government intelligence officer assigned to watch Jamie for the first couple days to make sure she wasn’t up to something nefarious. Her hotel room was probably being searched at that moment as well.
Even though he wasn’t particularly good at his job, his presence posed a problem for her. She could lose him easily enough but had to make it look like she didn’t lose him on purpose. An American tourist on a visa wouldn’t know how to lose a tail. It would be highly suspicious, if not proof positive, if she used sophisticated and evasive maneuvers to lose him.
