The Armenia Caper (4 page)

Chapter 12

Meeting the Spooks

Within minutes Artem and I were headed to a government building best known as the National Security Service, once the home of the Russian KGB. A large non-descript building right downtown. Locals did not even like to walk by it. You could actually see people speed up to get past it as quickly as possible.

Inside it had all the feel of visiting a prison. Likely there was one somewhere within. 

A short officious man came out of a doorway to greet Artem and took time to eye me up and down. We all went into another room where coffee, tea and sweet biscuits were offered.  Artem had said not to waste words and just get to the point. As I attempted to get off the first words the man looked at me again then at my shoes. He was unimpressed. He said in broken English. “A man is his shoes and mine were cheap”. Damn. He was right. I bought them primarily for this trip and had been told do not go into Armenia looking like a Prima Dona. You would be mugged simply for your shoes. That did it. I bought really cheap shoes. Now I was paying the price as this man stood before me and told me I was a cheap bastard. The information I did not have was in Armenia a man is made by his shoes.  Damn.

Once past the insult we got to the point of just how could a satchel of diamonds disappear between the Israeli cutting house and the designate in government for whom they were destined?  He offered little other than saying the designated recipient has gone missing. The thinking was they took the diamonds and simply melted away. The Armenian police have been attempting to locate the party without success but hinted at where they thought he might be.

His words suggested Moscow. Artem on the other hand, knowing Moscow did not feel that was the case. He believed the person was still in Yerevan likely hidden by family.

To me it did not matter I needed to come up with an answer as my time in Yerevan was winding down quickly.  I had been given little latitude to work and time wise an almost impossible framework.

I reached into my case and gingerly handed the weapon I had inherited to the Secret Police representative. He was surprised and of course wanted to know how I had come by it. I told him the night before somebody thought me important enough to threaten me but in the process they lost heart
and gave me their weapon. The man laughed and laughed until he coughed uncontrollably. Artem looked at me shaking his head and asked me if I was Armenian. When I said no he said I should have been. It was his way of saying I was okay.

Somebody was still out there attempting to intimidate me and get me on my way out of town. Somebody wanted the diamond caper to be forgotten. The Israelis were losing patience and felt betrayed by everyone.

Clearly there had to be an end game. Just how would show itself in mysterious ways.

Chapter 13

Jazz Heals All

Two more days passed with little progress. Artem determined I should be entertained by an Armenian family while in the country. We agreed on the evening and he took me back to his house. Artem was not a normal resident of Yerevan. We trucked on to some frightening roads that brought us to a hilly area and his home. It really was far more like a small castle. Gated, ornate, and stunning. Inside it was hard not to get lost so I stayed in the main living room zone. Two large screen televisions, massive stereo system, and concert piano.  The chandelier was to the extreme. Artem’s wife was Russian, articulate, but removed. There were little social skills displayed I had to think Artem bringing me back to the house was not with her blessing. The evening was short but telling. It said Artem was nobody to mess with. Somehow he had to be part of the intrigue in a larger way. Then again.

I wanted to catch up to Osanna but had no idea where to find her, or even call her. Was she engaged or married? It wouldn’t make a difference to the work I am sure but knowing somebody better is just a good thing. Unfortunately Osanna insured a barrier, other than she did enjoy jazz and good red wine.

She apparently could be found most nights entertaining herself at one of the incredibly good jazz bars in Yerevan. The city had a strong music program in one of the Universities. There were extremely skilled musicians but no work for them. Many left the country to opportunities elsewhere but those left behind worked hard to showcase their skills in and around Yerevan for meager returns.

The jazz clubs were simply outstanding and plentiful. Malkhas was considered the premium standard with one of Armenia’s most celebrated Jazz musicians Levon Malkahsyn the owner. He would invite in students of jazz and play sets with them late into the evenings. Osanna was a patron of all music places, especially Malkhas. By the crowd so was everyone else.

I would start visiting the jazz bars early afternoon and into the evening wondering if I would find her rolling a tall red wine in her glass. Luck held and sure enough there she was huddled up against the cool room nursing her wine. Osanna saw me and smiled through her broken face. Malkhas captured her heart once again. The music being stellar. The food mixed. The drinks creative. We stuck to good wine.

The direct question was how exactly did Osanna fit into this other than being in part a translator for government as necessary. She replied with candor yet guarded, that there had not been any talk inside about diamonds or what might have taken place. Even the disappearance of the designated recipient did not bring up any red flags by other departments. It was like they did not know anything about the arrangements with the government to receive gifts from the Israelis.

Osanna had suspicions and expressed them to me. She thought the recipient inside was a Russian agent. Somebody not really engaged with the government but using it as a cover for numerous enterprises?

Gratuitous diamonds would certainly accent interest. The insider just may have decided instead of taking a few off the top they would just take the whole satchel. The Israelis could do nothing. They were bound by the reality they were paying no taxes or bribes to conduct their business in the country.

Maybe a lot more than diamonds was taking place. Corruption was part of the city’s daily digestion. It came to mind Artem was supposed to be the expert on all things Moscow. Maybe more than anyone thought. He could pick up the phone and talk to the Kremlin with ease.

After a good bottle of wine it was time to visit the washroom. I came back to find Osanna gone. The waiter told me she just slipped out without a word. Out of nowhere my handler arrives, drops money on the table for the bill and says my options were doing a late dinner or going back to the apartment. The music was getting better as more musicians joined in to jam but my time was done.

The apartment it was.

Once in the door, I opened a can of Norwegian Spratts (sardines of sort) soaked in olive oil. I devoured them with a good piece of black bread. Washing it all down with the bottle of wine I took from the jazz bar. This exercise finished the evening.  Time was running out. Tomorrow I needed to track the stones and it would only happen if I can get to this mysterious missing man.

Chapter 14

Blondie

Next morning Artem was waiting for me in the coffee shop at the Marriott Hotel. So pedestrian. The coffee was typical wash offered by most restaurants everywhere in the world.

As I approach Artem, four men jumped up from a nearby table. They ran at me, dropping me on the floor before there was any opportunity to defend myself. Placing me in a chair, I watched while other guests quickly simply walked away from our location. They had seen this before. In that I had not I was at a disadvantage.

Artem begged off and he was motioned to leave while he could. Typically cold and calculated Artem never looked back. He was gone.

These people insured I did not move from my chair. We were obviously waiting for someone. A blond woman walked toward us. She was likely in her early fifties, slim and very short.  Her face resembled prunes left in the sun.

One chair was set for her and she sat down across from me. My observation was her blond was store bought dyed.  Smiling she spoke in perfect Oxford English. The message was clear. It was stated I had seen enough of Yerevan and I should leave.  I was beginning to like the city even with the up heaved streets and difficult living conditions.  One of the men had their foot on mine. I could not get up from the chair without tumbling over. I listened further.

She introduced herself as Lilit. The question of the diamonds came around. Her comment was did I really believe diamonds were the center of the mystery. What did I know? My handlers gave me the intelligence and gave me the file to track.  Why was she asking me? I should be asking her.

Apparently the diamonds made their way to Moscow as was the suspicion. According to this conversation the recipient was a double agent and Moscow could not hide their greed when he pointed out the fact cut diamonds were in his hands with no real paperwork to identify or track them. These were Agents too but untold I knew not who they worked for. Maybe their information was not correct.

There was an open invitation to the Russians to simply take them. What was the Armenian government going to do? What could they do? Russian agents were everywhere in Yerevan. Between the American and Russian agents Armenia had to fight for their place in the spook world. Yerevan is the traditional crossroad to the Greater Caucasus including Georgia, Azerbaijan, Iran, and Eastern Turkey. An area of historic intrigue. As quickly as these people showed up they departed. No threats. No timelines. Nothing. My deduction is they really knew nothing. It was all suspicion and conjecture.

I pulled myself together then walked over to the inviting watch store in the hotel lobby. The Armenians were now creating masterpieces of their own as the factory continued to produce watches they once produced for name brand companies overseas. Now they were under their own titles and as such were selling for a fraction of the internationally known name. They were beautiful, well built, and like a siren song tempting. I just liked good watches so amused myself with the pretense I might buy one. In hindsight I should have bought. Exquisite time pieces. Another time.

That night I was into the Norwegian Spratts again. Really. They were a great substitute for a meal. Okay. I am stretching it. With a bottle of Armenian wine anything was good. Even morning cereal in wine was a better option than the coagulated milk parts floating in the past dated carton
.

Chapter 15

Blank Look

The next morning I caught up to Artem. Without violence I exhibited genuine hostility questioning how he could leave me trapped with the blond crazy and her pet goons. The real question to Artem was, how did he not know the recipient of the stones at the government offices was a double agent? He knowing all about Russia and such it made no sense he was oblivious to the situation.

Artem never blinked. It seems he never does. Artem stood there and asked did I want sugar in my coffee.  I looked at him in disbelief and was immediately deflated. No way would I get into a confrontation with this guy. He just had too much control and far too many associates to deal with. Besides I had heard he was an ex international Rugby player. Those guys usually ate two or three people before noon.

We sat down and I soberly asked him what the hell happened? Artem looked over and said he really did not know. Something in his DNA suggested he was telling the truth. The blank look told me somebody was working outside his circle of influence and he was as miffed as everyone else.

Artem said he had been on the phone to Moscow all night trying to narrow down the story on the inside double agent. Moscow swore to him the person was not one of theirs. Right away my thoughts went to the Albanians. They were huge in facilitating the movement in human trafficking but diamonds did not seem their style. They were actually far too stupid to be playing at this level. Where and who would fence them?

Artem and I racked our collective heads in the attempt to figure this thing out right away.  Nothing seemed plausible. We just had a missing Dick who seems to be an independent or perhaps handled by an Albanian mob or Bulgarian connection. The question begs was he Armenian or Russian or what?

The Israelis were getting impatient. Four of them found me walking the Square and asked me to join them for a conversation. What the hell. It seemed more civil than the Blond ugly and her Gorilla’s.  Away we went. I really liked these guys. Their approach, their honesty probably covered a more sinister form of business acumen however there did not seem any danger for me.

They agreed they were duped by the inside recipient. Two previous encounters went like clockwork. This, being a much larger investment was far too attractive considering nobody could really follow any trails over the product. Government people were highly embarrassed and really could not find a way to express regret to the Israelis.

It seemed like I failed this assignment. On the other hand I knew a lot more than when we started. The rhythm of the rain seemed in step with the information so far. I asked the Israeli’s what they expected done.  They would simply be happy getting the stones back more than accusing the Armenian government of complicity or outright theft.  There would always be another time to donate assets towards their being left to their business in Yerevan. One thing about Israeli’s they have a patience I certainly had to work at. They did not want to lose their star diamond cutters or this city’s location.