CHAPTER NINETEEN
Friday, September 22ND
As Sam stepped out of the taxi, he buttoned up his coat and enjoyed the brisk fall weather. It gave him the shot of energy he needed after flying all night and, along with the shower and meal they’d just grabbed, he felt like he was ready to get down to work.
Owen climbed out of the taxi after paying and joined him in front of the black gates that protected the embassy building. Nodding to the security detail, he walked up, pulled out his identification, and looked up at the cameras that were mounted next to the American seal that topped the gates. He and Owen waited patiently while the Marines ran their faces through a facial recognition program and, once they were allowed through, they passed through an x-ray machine and then presented their credentials once again.
It was never a quick process and he’d learned long ago that the best thing to do was relax as they went through the motions. Between his prosthetic and the gun he carried, the process was prolonged by at least thirty minutes as everything was inspected and the DDTC export license for the firearm he carried was reviewed.
Once they were cleared and the FBI legat was notified they’d arrived, he and Owen were finally on the elevator. “That wasn’t as painful as it could’ve been,” Sam commented as the doors closed.
“They knew we were coming and that helped.”
They walked off the elevator and went through another set of security clearances and were finally inside the bustling offices of the FBI legal attaché. A tall well-dressed man strode toward them with a friendly smile and Sam assumed it was Theo James, the man he’d been in contact with for the last several days.
“You both look American, so I’m assuming you’re Agent Barton and Agent Kendrick.”
“Guilty,” Sam said as he stretched out his hand. “Thanks for having us, Theo.”
“Happy to work with you both,” he responded as he shook Sam’s hand and then Owen’s. “Come on back to the conference room and we can get started.”
“Something interesting going on, or is this the usual hustle and bustle?” Owen asked as they walked down the hall.
“This is pretty much how it always is. We’ve got a small staff and a lot of work, so we’re always running and gunning.”
“Makes sense, considering Brussels is the de-facto home to the European Union, NATO, and a host of transnational criminal organizations,” Sam said as they walked into a conference room. “Can’t imagine business ever slowing down.”
“Lots of job security,” Theo replied. “The woman hunched over her laptop is Julia Foster.”
Putting up her hand, she waved, and then went back to typing. “Almost done.”
Sam slid off his coat and nodded. “We’ll get set up.”
Owen pulled his laptop and tablet out and took a seat. “I shouldn’t have any problem connecting to the network, should I?”
“No, once you go through the secure sign-on, it should recognize you and uplink you immediately,” Theo responded.
“Great.”
Sam set his tablet on the table and then checked his phone. He’d sent a text to Lucky the moment they walked off the airplane and he hadn’t heard anything yet and wondered if she was mad that he’d been incommunicado yesterday. Between getting ready for the trip, taking Judit out to the Santorini’s, and catching a plane, he hadn’t had a minute until he’d gotten on the plane, and then his phone was dead.
He sent her another one and hoped when she saw him in person, he’d be forgiven. “We’re ready when you are.”
Julia looked up and gave everyone a smile. “Sorry, I was running at that deadline with my hair on fire and barely made it.”
Theo shook his head. “You’d think she could avoid that, considering she comes from a family populated by FBI agents.”
“It’s just my dad and brother who are agents and my cousin, Chance, is on HRT, so that doesn’t count.”
“I might know him,” Sam said. “I left the team three years ago.”
“You two might’ve crossed paths; his name is Chance Foster and he’s part of the maritime team, which makes sense considering his dad is a rear-admiral in the Navy.”
“Name sounds familiar, but I’m not putting a face to it. I was in the Tactical Aviation Unit.” He smoothed out his tie and, for the first time, talking about his old career didn’t make him feel like a knife was sliding into his gut.
Progress.
It was about damn time.
“Anyway, enough war stories. Can you get us up to speed on Vazov and his operation?”
“Absolutely,” Theo responded. “I’ll put his dossier up on the big screen.” He slid his hand across the tablet and, within seconds, the two large screens were populated with pictures, graphs, and reports. “Anton Vazov is part of the original group of Vory that grabbed resources and power when the Soviet Union collapsed back in the nineties. In his youth, he was a Spetsnaz or as we called them an SOF operator and was perfectly poised to join the Bratva and make a name for himself.”
“What did he originally get involved with?” Owen asked.
“When the auctions started, and the stockpiles of arms, oil, and natural gas resources became available, he chose armaments as well as financial institutions,” Julia answered. “The man came from a professional Jewish family and is known as the ‘brainy don’ because he holds an advanced degree in economics and has a high IQ.”
“Makes sense he would choose to be the money laundering conduit for the organization,” Sam responded. “Is he still aligned with the Solntsevkaya Bratva in Moscow or is that alliance finished?”
“I don’t think alliances ever end in the group, but merely adapt as times change,” Theo answered. “By our estimation, Vazov controls over a hundred front companies as well as a private bank and his operations stretch from Austria to Canada, Israel, Ukraine, and the United States. Not only is he the key money launder for many cells, but also traffics in armaments. He availed himself of the opportunity that was afforded him when the Warsaw Pact ended and acquired the Hungarian state-owned munitions manufacturer, Digep General Machine Works, as well as the Army Co-op. Through those purchases, he has control of the lion’s share of the Hungarian armaments industry, and has been a legitimate arms trader for over twenty years.”
“There’s been a rumor swirling around in the intelligence community that he and his interlocutors negotiated with representatives of al-Qaeda with regards to them obtaining fissile nuclear material along with a suitcase of dirty bombs,” Julia said as she stood up and walked over to the screens and moved around pictures, so a current one was most prominent. “He has as many legitimate businesses as dirty ones and to unravel his operation has been impossible up to this point.”
Sam leaned forward and looked up at the screen. “We have reason to believe he’s funding Yolkin’s group in Chicago as well as endorsing its legitimacy. In the wake of Belikov’s death, there was a vacuum that Yolkin filled almost immediately, and by all rights, he shouldn’t have been able to. Our guess is that Vazov legitimized his territory claim and the raw communications data is telling us they’re almost in constant contact.”
“That adds another interesting twist,” Julia commented as she moved images around on the screen. “To our knowledge, he’s never aligned himself with any specific group, other than his mentor, Semion Mogilevich.”
“Do you have any intel on his extended family, perhaps Yolkin is a distant relative and that’s why Vazov is helping him out,” Owen commented.
Julia turned toward Owen and gave him a smile. “Possible.” Opening one of the folders on the screen, she started sliding through documents. “I believe we might have something. Let me dig into it and let you know.”
Sam leaned back and crossed his arms. “How much cooperation are the locals giving you and how closely do our mutual interests align?”
Theo tapped his pen on the table and looked out the small window. “Vazov isn’t as big a priority as the Albanian clans and it’s my opinion they don’t want to go after him if they don’t have to because he has as much legitimate business as Bratva business in Brussels. He’s a generous donor to all of the cultural institutions and, honestly, a money launderer is the least of their worries.”
“We think he’s allying himself with Bes Besiaj of the Rudaj organization and they’re working together in human trafficking,” Sam said as he held his hand up. “And before you laugh me out of the room, I know it sounds crazy because the Russians and Albanians hate each other.”
“That they do,” Theo said. “We haven’t picked up any intel they’re communicating and if you’ve got something, we’d love to see it.”
Owen hunched over his laptop and started typing. “I’ll send you the communications data that we’ve got; it’s not been developed or refined, so take that into consideration when you look at it.”
“So how do we help each other out and work our investigations together?” Sam asked. “We’ve got a deadly black heroin running through Chicago that I’d like to get rid of and my gut is telling me that if we can take out Vazov, then Yolkin will lose power and we may be able to slow the tide.”
“We know the strength of the brotherhood and, the more players we take out, the better it will be for everyone,” Theo said. “What we really need is a CI that can get us inside the guts of the beast and, so far, we haven’t gotten close. We have to rely on Brussel’s law enforcement community for developing someone local and, so far, they haven’t done much about it. Europol has Vazov as a top priority, but they don’t move quickly, and from the meetings we’ve been in, it seems there’s a pissing match between the Director of the Organized Crime division for Europol and the Federal Police’s General Commissioner, Jaqueline De Bollerie.”
“And the wheels of justice grind slowly as everyone jockeys for a position,” Owen said as he closed his laptop.
“As you may know, we operate at the pleasure of our host country and our ability to affect the direction of an investigation is often not that strong. There are a lot of good people in the Federal Police and, by all accounts, they’ve been very cooperative, but our priorities are not theirs and vice versa,” Theo said. “Tell me about the woman that we’ve been keeping an eye on and how she fits into the Vazov picture.”
Sam cleared his throat and then spoke. “Lucky Santorini works for an International Security firm by the name of SAI and is their Director of Intelligence. She’s one of a hundred people in the world who possess the skills that has all the domestic alphabet agencies drooling for a chance to work with her. Last spring, she was instrumental in the development of intel that allowed us to take Sergey Belikov's group down and as a part of that investigation, she became aware of Anton Vazov and his activities. The abhorrent nature of his operation never left Lucky’s mind and she’s been highly motivated to see him brought to justice.”
“So, she couldn’t unknow what she discovered and wanted to do something about it,” Julia said succinctly.
Owen snorted and then nodded. “Exactly.”
“And what brings her to Brussels?” Theo asked.
“Another intelligence computer expert, Griffin Myers, who has worked extensively with Lucky in the past has a client here that he believes is doing business with Vazov. If that’s the case, then Lucky could gain access to his accounts and subsequently his network and mine it for intel that could possibly lead to his arrest and indictment.”
“Damn!” Julia said as she took a seat. “So, one of the best hackers in the world is willing to work on our behalf and has access to make it possible?”
“In a nutshell, yes,” Sam replied. “She also has a lead on his kassir and thinks he’s running a side hustle on the Dark Web, and as far as I know, she hasn’t had time to delve into it too deeply, but I expect once she’s done with the current project, she will.”
“And what does SAI say about her extracurricular activities?” Theo asked.
“SAI is owned and run by retired SEALs and her direct boss, Hank, has no qualms about what’s she’s doing as long as she’s not put in harm’s way.”
“Sounds like a SEAL,” Julia commented. “If my Uncle Clint were here, he’d say, ‘Evil is evil and you can’t let it stand.’”
“That’s the sentiment,” Sam responded. “We should know more over the next couple of days what might be possible. Today was Lucky’s first day on the project and we don’t know how or when she’s going to be able to gain access.”
“She’s at the Societe Generale Private Bank,” Theo said. “It’s owned by Martin Wouter, and nothing suggests he’s not running a legitimate operation, but private banks don’t have to report, so we really don’t know one way or another.”
“I’m guessing Lucky will know in the next couple of days, but frankly I don’t care as long as she’s safe while she’s working.”
“This could be a hell of a break,” Julia said. “And the sort of thing that could really turn the tide.”
“I’d like to share our files and see what connections we can make and then make a plan from there,” Sam said. “Once we know what Lucky can access, we can adapt and see what our next move could be.”
Julia stood and walked over to the screens. “Get ready because here they come.”
Sam watched her move and slide files and then whisk her hand across the screen. Within seconds, he had an alert on his tablet that they’d arrived. Checking his watch, he saw they had the day ahead of them to dig into the information and hopefully, by tonight when he met Lucky, he’d have good news for her.
Thinking about her smiling face sent a rush of warmth to his heart and, in that instant, he knew he’d permanently crossed the line from surviving to truly living and had his beautiful girlfriend to thank.
Which he would be doing the moment they were alone.