I’m going to try to put a part up once a week… TRY being the key word…

Part 7

After a breakfast at Waffle House, they rolled out to the back gate at Quantico and onto the FBI’s portion of the base. Pulling into the parking lot in front of the complex, Antonio commented, “I still have nightmares about this place, and it is no wonder I couldn’t sleep last night!”

Sergi just grunted and the old man laughed, “Hey we’re back as the pros from Dover now, so we don’t have to play their games. And the reason you had nightmares was all that damn food!”

Getting out of the car, they stopped momentarily to look at those faded brick buildings, each dealing with their own memories of the place.  Automatically, they all slipped on and straighten their suit coats, and the old man put on his cowboy hat.  As they walked up the walkway to the entry, a familiar figure stepped out. 

“John, you old bastard, I wondered if that was really you! I see that it is, and you’re as ugly as ever, Deputy John Cronin,” SAC Miller said with a smile and extending his hand. The old man, stuck out his hand and proceeded to fold the SAC into a bear hug and pounded him on the back, “Milty, who the hell let you up here? Goddamn, it’s been what 20 years? These are my co-authors, Sergi and Tony!”

Handshakes and introductions followed and the SAC said, “Hell John, I’m so old they put my tired ass out to pasture and this is the pasture. I’m the lead instructor and for my sins, the damn coordinator for this cluster fuck we’ve got this week. Com’on well get some coffee and I brought donuts for all you cops!”

Leading them into the building and the theater, they caught up with each other and discussed the plan for the seminars and their panel, since they weren’t on until eleven, they could either attend the first panels or come back. They decided since they’d already come out, and there was really nothing to do at the hotel, they would sit in on the earlier portion of the seminar. 

Sergi and Tony wandered off, talking with a few of the early arrivals as the SAC pulled the old man to the side saying, “John, just to give you a heads up, Klopstein is going to be here, and he’s been writing a lot of memos on how flawed your paper is, so be prepared.  Also, I’m pulling you guys out after lunch, we’ve got another meeting y’all have to attend. Don’t say anything to anybody else about that; I’ll come get you when we need to leave.”

The old man replied, “Klopstein? I thought that bastard got fired! How the hell did he get his nose back under the tent?”

Shaking his head, the SAC said, “Oh he wangled a position at Columbia in their Criminal Justice program and BS’ed his way into a department chair in Forensics and Analysis. You know about his whole model and simulation spiel, right? Well, he’s managed to keep pushing that shit down here and the head shed keeps giving him money to expand it into a real study.”

“Can I just shoot the bastard and be done with it Milty? I never could stand that sumbitch when he was trying to BS us in the forensics classes down here back in the day. Hey, any chance we can sneak over to the range? I still owe you a chance to get your money back from our last little competition,” the old man said with a grin.

Tony came back over and borrowed the keys to the car, saying he’d be back in a couple of minutes.  As Tony came back with a laundry bag in his hand, Sergi wandered up from the front of the theater. When he saw Tony with the laundry bag he started laughing, “Mr. SAC we have a little challenge for you, if you please. We would like to know if your great lab here can get fingerprints for us.”

The old man shook his head saying, “Milty, we had a bit of a set to last night, and they left a bit of evidence behind; ahhh, not sure how you want to handle this if you even do.”

The SAC held out his hand and Tony passed him the laundry bag, opening it and seeing the basketball he looked at the three of them with a quizzical expression, “Evidence? Are there bodies to go with this, or is this it?”

After a humorous retelling of the events of the previous night, the SAC was chuckling with them and said he’d see what he could do, and knew just the person at Metro DC to pass the info to if they came up with anything. 

Looking at his watch he said, “Well, time to get this show on the road, if you guys want to go or hide in the back feel free, I doubt you’ll need to be back before ten thirty.”

Shaking hands all around they broke up; the old man decided to stay and see what the other presenters were going to say, and Tony and Sergi decided to go visit the museum and stretch their legs.   

After the first presenter and panel, the old man snuck out the back and wandered around the buildings letting the memories wash over him. It was hard to believe it had been almost 30 years since he’d last been here and that was for 10 long weeks.  Homesick, damn near ready to leave after the second week, but determined to stick it out after Amy chewed his ass…  But the folks he’d met had opened his eyes to the world-wide fraternity of good cops; Sergi, Tony, Amir but he’d been killed in the 80’s in a riot in Bombay, that ol’ boy from over by Shreveport…

And the classes got him interested and back in the books, especially the forensics classes and how to correctly collect evidence and pursue investigations. That had opened up a whole new world for the young deputy back then, and taken him down the road that had now brought him back here.  As the Chief Investigator for the Sheriff’s Office he’d worked with so many different departments over the years and managed to put some truly bad guys behind bars, and a couple in the ground too. But his fascination with smuggling started right here, well that and the two years with the DEA in South America and the raids on labs and smuggling operations.

He realized he was standing in front of the old forensics classroom and there were still exhibits outside the door, but he didn’t recognize a single one of them. He wondered what had happened to the old ones, and figured they were in some storage unit somewhere on the compound.  Hell, they’d had stuff from Dillinger here when he’d gone through. Looking at his watch, he decided to head back and make sure he was ready for the panel discussion that was to come.

At 1045 the seminar broke for a 15 minute break and the SAC came out the back; seeing the old man, Sergi and Tony he motioned them over and told them, “Okay you guys are up, and I’ll introduce you then we’ll give you about fifteen minutes to give your open and then open the floor for questions, y’all got that?”

The nodded and followed the SAC back down to the stage, and he showed them the computer controls and gave them each their mikes and had them each do sound checks. 

As the last stragglers wandered back to their seats, he tapped the mike on the podium and started the introductions, “Okay ladies and gentlemen, the next panel is on smuggling of both drugs and personnel via both sea and land.  I’ll let the three presenters introduce themselves and give a quick overview of their paper and then we’ll open the floor for questions.”  With that he waved to the old man to start.    

Stepping to the center of the stage the old man started, “Morning folks, I’m Captain John Cronin, Pecos County Texas Sheriff’s Department chief investigator. The paper we co-wrote is based on a small sample of smuggling operations the three of us have directly participated in either individually or together in Europe so this will be a micro view of a much larger picture, but in our case we have complete documentation and photos and video in many cases. I’m a graduate of the NA back in 1983, and investigator since 1984. My co-hosts are Sergi and Antonio.” Waving at Sergi, he walked behind the table and sat down.

Sergi walked to the center of the stage and introduced himself, “Sergi Laine, Keskusrikospoliisi or NBI, our equivalent of your FBI. I am a graduate of this National Academy in 1986 and I am a field operations person specializing in smuggling into Finland. Approximately eight of the examples are from my borders.”

Tony got up and said, “Antonio Russo, Carabinieri, Direzione Anti Droga, our anti-drug task force. I too am a graduate, 1988 and I am specialist in drug smuggling with a minor specialty in slave smuggling out of Africa. Four of the events are ones that we performed as part of Interpol operations and two of the events are joint smuggling events that both the Cowboy,” smiling at the old man, “And the big Finn”, waving at Sergi, “And I ended up working as a team during 1996.  The first event was originally thought to be a simple cigarette smuggling from Corsica, but turned out to be a cartel operation from Columbia and Mexico via the Bahamas and the United States to smuggle both marijuana and cocaine into Europe disguised as a standard cigarette smuggling operation.”

“The second operation was from a lead from that led to a much larger organization smuggling slaves out of Ghana on coastal freighters to the Mediterranean and drugs and slaves being transshipped to other ships and to both Macedonia and the Baltic regions.  Sergi was brought in through Interpol and was instrumental in getting us assistance from the Baltic nations to allow a focal follow on the ship of interest to its final rendezvous with small boats off Hanku, Finland and the final end point of Helsinki; while the Cowboy and I picked up the trucks and small boats used to deliver the product and slaves into Albania, Yugoslavia, and finally ending in Skopje, Macedonia. Since then Sergi and I have cooperated through Interpol on six other cases.”

The old man got up and gave a précis of the article, delving into the similarities observed in the way the smugglers set up their vehicles and/or ships. He also talked to the apparent international spread of very similar plans for adding concealment and spaces which they believed were probably based on the cartel’s reach into international crime.  Sergi and Tony both spoke briefly on specific cases they had each worked on. Finally the floor was opened to questions, most of which revolved around key points for determining whether there were compartments and cues to look for.

Then Professor Klopstein strutted to the microphone…

Rattling papers and adjusting his glasses and ostentatiously clearing his throat he finally spoke, “I am Professor Klopstein from Columbia University, head of the Criminal Justice Forensics Department and based on my 20 years of research in this area, and my modeling which is used by a number of organizations world-wide; I find that your entire premise is flawed because your sample size is not statistically significant; I find no definition of the so called ‘slavery’ you claim to have observed, and I can help but notice that you killed nine, let me repeat NINE people in these two so called coordinated takedowns. My question to you Captain, or should I call you ‘Cowboy’ is what was your justification for all these people being killed without arrest or trial?” 

Rustling his papers again, he stood in the aisle awaiting a response.

The old man started to get up, but Tony put out his hand, “I will handle this if you don’t mind sir.”

Walking to the front of the stage, Tony went from happy go lucky to deadly serious, to the point that Klopstein took a step backward.  “Signor professore, if I may call you that; you have insulted all of us with your comment, and you are lucky we are not in Italy, because I would personally take you out in the street and whip you.  But I will deign to answer your pathetic little question.”

Putting his hands behind his back, Tony paced slowly from one side of the stage to the other.  “Remember this distance please; I will refer to it later. Now to your first point, we stated both here and in the paper this was a limited sample and we were very specific about that. There was no attempt to place this in any larger context than that of a limited look at drug smuggling specifically coming in from South America, and slave smuggling from Ghana.  As for the definition of slavery, you should really keep up with the INTERPOL definitions professore, you are sadly uninformed in reality. Secondly, for a so called world-wide presence, we looked at your pathetic little model and summarily recommended not adopting it because you had nothing in the model that actually supports any law enforcement agency other than a US federal agency.”

Walking back across the stage, he stopped at the edge, “Please dim the lights up here and down in front if you would please.” As the lights dimmed, he paced slowly to the center of the stage, stopped, put his hands behind his back and bowed his head for a minute.

Klopstein started back to his seat, but Tony yelled, “NO, YOU STAY RIGHT THERE.  You want answers I give you answers.”

Klopstein froze in place, as Tony walked back to the side of the stage, “Signor John, or Cowboy as you so derisively called him killed four people in the first operation for two reasons. You see, I was the lead boarder when we did a covert boarding of the first ship. It was a little darker than you see here. We used two Zodiacs with five people in each, one driver and four boarders.  I was first up the rope to the starboard stern of the vessel, it was about seven feet up that boarding rope.  As soon as I got on deck, I crouched until I was sure Cowboy was almost on deck and I started moving forward,” Tony walked quickly to the center of the stage. “I was shot by at least three smugglers at this point, actually shot multiple times in the vest, but one shot hit me in the side of the head and I dropped immediately.”

Pacing to the far side of the stage, “Cowboy was barely aboard when they shot me.  He took out his pistol and shot all three of the smugglers with head shots from this distance, in less light than we have now. He took five rounds to the vest, and one shot in the left bicep. He then rushed forward and charged the bridge.  As he was coming up the ladder, a fourth smuggler tried to shoot him off the ladder. Cowboy put him down also with a head shot.”

Stalking back to center stage, Tony again put his hands behind is back, “Cowboy then captured the Captain and the bridge, forcing them to kill all power on the ship and putting it adrift in the Adriatic while the rest of the team boarded.  These smugglers did not go easily, and in fact we killed eight just in this boarding alone.  I was medically evacuated by a helicopter, so you might ask how I know this.  I know this from my team, who followed Cowboy and completed the takedown. And I have no doubt, nor do any of the  men there that night that Cowboy saved my life. Lights please.”

As the lights came back up, Tony walked back to the table and leaned on it rubbing his hands, “Sergi and the Cowboy finished my job in Skopje, and only two smugglers were shot there when they first shot at us.”

Walking back to the front of the stage, Tony looked down at Klopstein and asked softly, “Have you ever been in the field ‘professore’?”

Klopstein blustered, “No, my work does not require me to go in the field. I rely on the ‘proper’ documentation from field agents for my work.”

“You don’t remember me do you?”

“No, why should I?”

“Professore, or should I say Analyst Klopstein, does the name SNC Technologies bring anything to mind? 1988 in Hogan’s Alley?”

Klopstein visible recoiled at that, turned pale and sat in the first seat he could find.

Tony looked out at the audience and said, “In 1988 as a student here, I among others was invited to participate in a new training technology called Simunitions today.  Analyst Klopstein here, who used to be employed by the FBI as an analyst here, decided that he needed to participate in the exercise to quote, get a feel unquote for how operations are handled.  He was placed on the hostage guard side of the exercise to get an understanding of how fast a takedown had to take place to save the hostages.  When he was hit for the first and ONLY time with a Simunition, he dropped his weapon and ran screaming to the corner and collapsed; yelling for us to not shoot him anymore.”

In the dead silence that followed, Tony asked, “Are there anymore questions? Thank you.”

The SAC stepped to the podium and thanked them for the presentation and called a lunch break for all. 

As the old man, Sergi and Tony walked off the stage, the SAC met them at the bottom of the steps.  At the same time a young Thai policeman approached them diffidently, then gave the traditional bow and hands together gesture to the old man, “Sawasdee krup.”

The old man returned the gesture and greeting, and the young Thai continued, “Sir, Pan Wattanapanit asked to be remembered to you and hopes that you and your family are well.”

The old man stood there for a second or two, then looked sharply at the young Thai policeman, “Do you mean Joe? What IS that bastard up to these days?”  

A bit taken aback by the response and not sure how to answer, he said, “Sir, Pan Wattanapanit is the director of the Central Investigation Bureau now, and my superior.”

The old man started laughing, to all the others surprise. He shook his head and replied, “Joe or I guess ‘Cho’ as you say it was my roommate here, and talk about a homesick sumbitch, and lousy card player, but smart as a whip and all whang leather tough and damn that little shit could drink! And he loved Kentucky sour mash!  That Joe?”

Smiling the young Thai said, “Yes sir, he still loves it and requested that I bring him some Blanton’s home. He said he will never forget that gift.”

Turning to the others, the old man said, “On the tenth and twentieth anniversaries of our graduations, I’ve sent him bottles of Blanton’s; and all I get back is that damn Sang Thip.’ Turning back to the young Thai he smiled, “Please see me tomorrow and I will make sure you have another bottle or two to deliver to that old souse…”

Bowing the young Thai nodded and left.  The SAC just shook his head, and said, “Okay guys, we need to make a little road trip here, so if y’all will join me, we’re outta here.”

Sergi and Tony just looked at each other, but the old man nodded and said, “Let’s go, I need to eat something though, Milty.”

Laughing, he just led them out to his car.  Once they were on the way, he told them,

“Y’all are going over to the Marine side, and give another brief and Q and A with a few military folks.  This one is going to be NATO Secret, and you’re all cleared to that level.”

After crossing through the gate, the SAC turned again, “McDonalds?”

They all laughed and agreed, so they did the drive through and proceeded over to the Marine Corps Combat Developments building.  After clearing the front desk, the SAC told them he would be back to get them in an hour.  They were escorted to a secure conference room by a young Captain, and offered coffee.  Shortly thereafter, the room began to fill with various very fit young men in civilian clothes, and one older Coast Guard Captain.  The old Captain did a double take, then walked over to them.  Sticking out his hand he introduced himself, saying to the old man, “Captain Jeff Carson, you don’t remember me do you?”

Shaking his hand, he said, “No Captain, I can’t say that I do, John Cronin by the way. Should I remember you?”

The Captain laughed, “Probably not, the last time I saw you, you were playing at being a second class petty officer; that was in 1979, remember that? And heloing on and off a Cutter down off Columbia in the middle of the night?”

Slapping his head, the old man grinned, “LTJG Carson, how you’ve changed!  My god that was YEARS ago!  I see you’ve stuck it out, and done pretty well since I know they don’t make a lot of Coastie Captains!”  Looking over at Tony and Sergi, he quickly related the tale of his dropping in on the Coasties in the middle of the night as a DEA agent to do a takedown on a particular mother ship off Columbia. 

Shortly, a Marine Colonel entered and the room came to attention. Motioning the three to the front, he introduced them in a very truncated fashion and said, “Gentlemen, these folks have been there and done it, you’ve all received copies of the paper they wrote and now is your chance to ask any questions and get any details you think are pertinent.  Captains, these young men are from a variety of military organizations and are here for special operations joint training using new technology in a program called Visit, Boarding, Search and Seizure or as we know it VBSS.  This is not your generation’s version of it, and we are doing our best to standardize this across services and countries so that we can operate effectively not only with each other, but from a variety of platforms.  Gentlemen you have one hour.”

An hour and a half later, John, Sergi and Tony though they had been through the wringer…

The questions had come hot and fast, everything from intel, timeliness, radio coordination, covert and overt boarding options, smugglers and guards and their normalized placements on the smuggling ships, where and how to look for hidden compartments, hidden scuttle valves to allow compartments to be sunken in the bilges, smells that might cue them, heated or cooled areas and their indicators, deceptive lighting, and many more questions.

And they’d figured out there were at least six or seven different organizations represented, but no one other than the Captain, who merely observed, ever identified themselves.

The SAC picked them up and took them back to the theater, and pulled the old man off to the side, handing him a flyer, “John, I know you’re still a shooter, and this is right up your alley if you’re not too old. It’s a little competition over in West Virginia in about six months. If you want to take a break, this would be a good one to go do, and you’ll be against the best around. Trust me.”

The old man looked at the flyer and folded it neatly and put it in his pocket, “Thanks Milty, maybe this will be my last one. Speaking of which, are we gonna go shoot or not?”

“Not this trip John, but Becky wanted to invite y’all to come to dinner tonight at six thirty if that works for y’all.”

Shaking hands with him, the old man replied, “We’ll be there with bells on.”

To be continued…