The Armenia Caper (2 page)

Chapter 4
New Challenges

Taylor wanted me to go through the documents and familiarize myself with a few local characters doing business in Yerevan. The two I needed to concentrate on were Artem a lawyer by profession, and, an exotic seemingly low key proficient woman named Osanna.

Artem was known to work closely with the Russian embassy and Moscow in general. He traveled frequently back and forth. Artem also worked closely with the US Government and the Canadian Government Volunteer Agencies. He knew his way around everyone that mattered in Yerevan. I believed he had something on everybody.

Osanna worked for one of the favored Russians, an ex-sports figure of some renown, who was a recipient of two factories from the Russians for a few US dollars each. Her role was translator and personal assistant. Pretty much anything to do with the revitalized factories she controlled.

They were highly successful in producing automotive cleaning products, tire wheels, and interior plastics for door panels. With this the group owned an international tourism organization respectfully controlling numerous visitors into and out of Armenia. They knew who came and who went.

My assignment was to ferret out what possible connection these two had to the disappearance of some perfectly cut one carat diamonds and to whom they were destined.

Some diamonds? I re-read the document and it was a satchel of diamonds! Millions of dollars. They were meant as a gift from the Israeli’s to Yerevan city reconstruction. Somehow they evaporated between the cutting house and the designated recipient in government.

Why me? Having done a fair amount of clandestine Intelligence work around the world prior, the feeling was as a reconstruction specialist in particular with hotels, I could settle in and be innocuous. Play making was always emotionally gratifying.

I attempted to ask Taylor why the personal antagonism with
this file.
He avoided the conversation. It was no skin off him or was it? I noticed the bottle of scotch was empty.

No matter now, I was on my way.

Chapter 5

Finding Yerevan

Arriving in Armenia at Zavartnots airport was uneventful but the minute getting off the plane and finding my way to the generally routine immigration procedure things became icy. It was still the old soviet style of business. There was an incredible need for customer service at this airport. The treatment was cold, and the interrogation techniques were right out of the soviet hand book.

It really felt a good idea might be to get on the plane and just head back out. Their questions were fast and furious as well as stupid. After approximately one half hour I figured it out. Bribery. Just put a $100 dollar US bill in your passport and slide it across the counter and you were through. You could have been carrying almost anything but as long as you laid down the bribe you were through.

I was a slow learner, but managed to remember that for all the subsequent trips I would end up doing to Armenia.

After picking up the small bag of luggage brought with me, I walked out into the arrival area but could not spot my handler who was to be there and insure I was not harassed by the countless taxi shills and hucksters trying to extract US dollars from you. The arrival of course was late into the night as all flights were. It was close to morning. A lot of military people around. No coffee.  Unsavory characters lurking in the shadows. Nothing else.

A slight man came up to me and grabbed my arm. As I turned to elbow the presumed attacker he quickly identified himself as my handler. He urged us both to get out of the airport as soon as possible. That we did with a handful of eyes tracking every move we made. The secret police of today were no different from the soviet days.  A hard transition for the country.

Driving into the city of Yerevan was a desolate drive. The vehicle seemed to ride on half inflated tires with at least one totally flat. No lights anywhere. I was told signs and extraneous lighting was turned off at night or simply at times there was no electricity regardless.

As we drove we would pass the notorious area where a few blocks of small casinos were evident. They were small, gaudy signage and funny enough their neon was blazing. I could see there were few cars in front of any of the buildings and it was a sure give away those casinos were primarily in the trade of washing money and currency hustling. The people huddled outside the entrances looked like silent warriors, no, the better description is thugs.

Once past these buildings we came across the ground breaking construction of the new USA Embassy bordering the roadway and built into the lake running parallel to the main roadway from the city to the airport. This place was reported to be built to house some 2,000 personnel. Seemed overkill to me.

My accommodation turned out to be a rented apartment in one of the old soviet structures. Fourth floor walk-up, no lights in the common areas and once to the accommodation things turned worse. Some water. No hot water and no heat. There were rat droppings along all the cabinetry and throughout the kitchen cupboards. The toilet worked.

My handler took the responsibility of insuring I had canned food items and plenty of bottled water. There was an opener and some fresh types of bread wrapped in plastic. A bowl of hard butter, homemade jam in jars topped with rusting caps and instant coffee completed the eating options available. No sugar.

The fridge worked occasionally. Very occasionally. Okay, almost never.

I loved the large bottle of vodka and sparkling juices on the kitchen table. This guy knew his business. Other issues would work out over the coming few days, except heat and electricity.

Luckily I eventually got dribbles of hot water about every two days. I made out. The electric kettle, when there was electricity, heated water for the sink. Sponge bathing was awkward and maddening. You certainly did not brush your teeth with what was coming out of the tap.

Quickly I was briefed about my two people of interest and told I would meet both in the morning. With that the handler left and I was left in a country I did not know, a building I did not know where it was, and all I had was the cellphone given to me.

Without it I was almost lost. I did not even know how to enter the numbers for calling regardless. The handler called back over his shoulder that I should be downstairs outside the main door at exactly 7 A.M. No clock.

Sleep was impossible with the scurrying of rats and the fierce numbing cold of the building. Old fashioned bed, with laced hemp ropes as the box with a stained and lumpy thin mattress on top. The saving grace was a huge feather pillow and massive comforter that really was superb in fighting back frost bite.

Running to the bathroom during the night proved a cool experience. The wooden floor was heavily splintered and the darkness hard to navigate. I learned to sleep with my socks on after the first night.

Who was I? Hunter Blacke at your service. A well trained hotelier, major tour operator and tourism expert. What mattered is I was a shadow. Where ever I went chaos would follow.

Further trained in close combat, interrogation, extract and Intelligence techniques, the role was mostly gathering information as necessary and insuring I got to hell out of the circumstance without leaving a trace. My skills were adequate to the task.

I could advise the client on how to build a hotel, market the property and how to extract good guys from bad guys when the time dictated. Scores of countries later I end up in Armenia.

Chapter 6

Meeting Resources

My handler was right on time. He picked me up and we found our way through the heavy morning traffic with limping Russian Ladas and smoking little Meisherschmidts, belching and sputtering towards the city center. There were extremely few modern European vehicles anywhere to be seen. The roads were filled with pot holes and broken pavement.

One vehicle ahead must have been a farmer as the rusting out wreck of a car was completely loaded with potatoes and cabbage. Front seat, back seat and open trunk. Nothing but spuds and green heads but the car could not make a small rise in the roadway and came to a halt. In doing so the load shifted and both potatoes and cabbage rained onto the roadway finding their way under the wheels of traffic going both ways. Messy to say the least and you could see the tears in the driver’s eyes. He just viewed his meager income being squished to pulp all over the road. On top of that his rear axle looked like it was calling it quits.

We arrived downtown after driving past the massive famous Ararat Cognac factory, crossing over a bridge way and passing by another lesser known liquor production house. A great entry I thought. One could always be reminded Yerevan had superb cognac and quality vodka.

Arriving at the Marriott located on Republic Square, I was hustled in to meet this dark, complex, but hauntingly beautiful woman sitting by herself quietly drinking a morning tea. I was introduced at the table and the handler disappeared.

Republic Square was a massive soviet style landscape with circular drive flanked by massive local stone architecture, mostly government buildings, using the famous ‘pink’ stone of Armenia. A volcanic extract correctly named the ‘Pink Tuff’ stone. It is found nowhere else therefore the use in building gives Yerevan a very unique pink glow in the sunlight.

An intriguing woman this Osanna. Cautious, smart, oddly beautiful with her telling features framing her striking large brown eyes. No slouch here. Her intelligence was like an aura projecting strength with a driving inquisitive mind breaking through. It seems she was educated as a mechanical engineer. Hell in Armenia mechanical engineer must have been popular in its time. Numerous people would tell you they were originally mechanical engineers. There was no doubt in my mind Osanna was very well educated, mechanical engineer or rocket scientist. Close either way.

I mentioned I could help her and her Russian partner to reconstruct one of the factory areas into a Hotel and gardens. There was a light spark of excitement from her and it was determined I should meet with her counterpart as soon as possible. It felt we were off to a good start. There was calmness in her manner one could not help but like.

She quietly indicated she could work with me as I did not come across like the typical loud government bureaucrats from America. Hell I was not a bureaucrat. Personally I hold them in as low esteem as Osanna I am sure. Her smile was classic and held a mysterious lure.

My interest moved to Osanna on a more personal basis asking in particular does she do any translating for other companies or government and she replied she continues to do government translations. I pushed the envelope asking what she may have heard about the special gifting by the Israelis to government to help with the road repaving of downtown roads and reconstruction of key buildings in the city. All of a sudden Osanna shoulders went back and her face changed from generally friendly too having her lips faintly trembling with fear.

The subject changed. She suggested we meet for dinner with her boss to discuss a rebuilding project for them and what it would take to get underway financially. I agreed and the word was we would eat in the ‘Barbeque District’ at one of the oldest and finest food establishments in Yerevan
.
The street named Proshyan in this district, is better known as "Khorovadz Street" BBQ street where every shop on the street being a barbeque restaurant, some good and some better.

Our restaurant apparently had no public name as such and if you knew about it you knew about it. If not, you didn’t. So much darkness.

Chapter 7

Pushkin Street Under Siege

Osanna and I walked from the Hotel Marriott, up Abovian Street, over to Pushkin Street where there was the downtown office of my new found friend. Along the short walk there were numerous older people sitting on boxes displaying their paper bags of sunflower seeds, rotting figs and single cigarettes that they sold to survive. Disturbing to foreigners from richer lands. Younger locals however have high regard for their pensioners and seniors. They stopped often to just drop a few coins buying nothing.

Continuing to the line of old stone buildings, one housing Osanna’s street level office there were twenty to thirty construction people located nearby with diggers and demolition equipment. Osanna stated we had about two hours before the wrecking ball would be taking down their building. The statement seemed like a passing joke. No. The lady doesn’t joke.

Staff, all young eager interns from the University, was hustling around doing their business like nothing was going to happen. Everybody was on cell phones and worked off a few desk top computers. The phones were busy and everyone obviously had their tasks in hand.

My arrival was a celebration with them. Like an aging rock star I took in the attention.

Osanna reluctantly was attempting to find a connection I could pursue to get inside government offices to determine what happened to the missing diamonds. Her efforts were appreciated.

Time passed fast. All of a sudden out of nowhere Dmitri Grigor, the Russian owner, pulled up with three cars following. He yelled to the staff to move the offices now. Computers were unplugged. The few lights turned off, shelves emptied with everything thrown into the waiting cars. As we closed the doors the wrecking crew pulled up close to the building. Driving quickly away in the rear window one could see the first strikes of the wrecking ball hit the front of the building. Swirls of thick amber dust obscured all activity. Pushkin Street was clearly not going to wait on anyone. Progress was underway.

We drove very fast to a completely different part of the city pulling up to an older typically soviet apartment block. Everybody grabbed something from the cars. Walking up two floors, what would be called a domestic apartment was quickly set up as the new offices for Osanna and staff. Everything was up and working within 20 minutes. Now seeing this I realized just how adaptable these Armenians were.