August 201x
The four men all walked slowly through the mid-day summer heat, each with a small entourage in tow, all independently heading for the same place. The Moroccan had the most people with him: 20, mostly women, faces veiled but wearing conservative western clothing except for the four white robed men with elaborate keffiyeh hovering at his shoulders. The two Egyptians had never met before, and were coming from opposite directions, but each of them had almost identical followers: 5 men in brown business suits, one each with an attaché case. The Mexican had three women and four men, strung out behind him, wearing a mixed set of western clothing and seemingly ignoring the world for their cell phones.
As they got closer to the rendezvous point the followers all dropped away from each man by ones and twos, dwindling until there was only one man with each of the four at the moment that each pair entered a small courtyard off of the streets. Each of the pairs quickly stepped in through a different door, coming in from separate sides of the building. The members of each entourage took up places outside the walled courtyard as shoppers, arguing couples, lost tourists, etc. The four men, each with his single bodyguard, slowly walked in, taking in the scene and nodding at the others.
The courtyard was an uneven square, 30 paces across, built off the south corner of a large, old warehouse complex near the harbor in Khania, Crete. The sounds of the old city poured over the walls, making it hard to hear, but impossible to eavesdrop from the outside. It was lined with small fichus trees and crumbling wooden benches, parts of an ancient trellis roof thick with vines provided some dark shade by the walls. Crates were piled here and there, the brightly colored labels making spots of green and orange against the brownish gray dust that coated the cobbles and the olive-drab trees. The center of the cobbled space shimmered in the mid day heat, and the strong smell of cinnamon and cloves wafted out of a dark archway in the north corner which led back into the warehouse complex, along with the beep of the forklifts and smatterings of radio chatter in Greek, Turkish, and Arabic. Halfway along each wall the men had entered thru small wooden doors in very old, arched stone doorways, each with his one follower.
The Moroccan wore a rather plain suit, although his bodyguard wore a traditional robe. The Egyptians both wore expensive, Italian suits, their bodyguards each in drab Spanish equivalents. The Mexican and his bodyguard were the best dressed by far, in new silk suits from Thailand. The four men stopped at the edge of the shade, and the Moroccan raised his hands in greeting.
“In the name of Allah, the Just – We have been gathered together by the hand of God acting thru the agency of our dearest funders; to poison infidels and weaken their States, for the glory of God, the future of the faith and,” here he nodded at the Mexican, "if God is willing, to make a healthy profit from the sins of our enemies".
The Egyptians looked at each other, then made small motions to the men behind them, who stepped forward and exchanged attaché cases. Then the four principles stepped forward for a quick round of head nods and handshakes, each passing letter sized envelopes to each of the others.
They all left at the same moment, briskly walking away in separate directions, their entourages slowly forming around them. The entire meeting had taken 5 minutes.
Hezekiah and Yaniv looked at each other, and then out the dirty window at the tiny form of the hummingbird drone, perched on a branch overlooking the courtyard. The tiny drone, closer in size to a finch than a real hummingbird, had a pathetically short flight range. It was also decorated as a species of bird that was not present in the area. Still, they had been able to identify the Egyptian Asr-al bin Badawi ur Marwan, and finally photograph his – partners? Masters? If only the audio had come thru! Unfortunately the drone had been behind the speaker, so even lip reading from the video was not a possibility.
They had no backup teams to actively trail the meeting participants. Seeing this meeting today had been a lucky break. A tip from one of the warehouse employees that the courtyard was “reserved” for the afternoon had sent the two spies and their hummingbird hurrying to this cheap room across the street from the warehouse. If there had been more time to set up, or if they had known who was to be here, they would have had much better equipment available.
Hezekiah retrieved the drone while Yaniv called in their report and uploaded the video, confirming that they should not attempt to tail any of the men. Then the two packed up and left quietly, walking a slow circuitous route back to their safe house to make certain they were not followed.
Hezekiah and Yaniv spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing the video and discussing what they had seen with their supervisor, Adara. The tiny remote control drone had not been in a very good spot to observe the meeting, behind the speaker with the Mexican opposite him, the other two barely in the video at all. The audio had not worked well enough to hear anything, but it didn’t look like anyone but the Moroccan had spoken a word.
The identity of the Mexican gentleman in particular was of great interest. There were now several teams out scouting the city trying to find out where he was staying.
"Probably not good news, this" growled Adara, his lips barely visible beneath his huge beard, "We had no knowledge of any connections with narco-traffickers before today." He took out a printed still from the video and stared into it, searching the man’s face again for any clue to his identity. "And we have never seen this one before, we have no idea which cartel he is working for."
"Are we even sure he is narco?" asked Yaniv, leaning forward. "I mean, there are other business’s in Mexico that might be friends of our friends.." Yaniv pointed at a freeze frame of the two Egyptians.
"Good point," mumbled Adara, his huge frame slouching even lower into his creaking old office chair as he propped his feet up on a small fire-safe file box, "but we will start with the assumption that he is narco related. Hezekiah, I want you to take the lead IDing this Mexican." He grunted and leaned forward to hand Hezekiah the still photo while passing another sheaf of freshly printed papers to Yaniv. "Yaniv, you are to work on the Moroccan fellow, one Musa Miloud Benjaloune. We think he may be key to the real story here, if we can find out who it is he reports to. This means you will be flying to Athens this evening, as our friend Musa is right now boarding a flight."
Yaniv winced internally but did not let his expression waver. He had been planning on spending the night with a certain dancer from a club nearby, but now he would probably never have that particular pleasure.
"May I take this with me to Athens?" he asked hopefully, hefting the papers.
"No," Adara said flatly. "They will have another set for you there, meanwhile read those here then give them back to me. You have about three hours before your plane leaves, we will review what we know in two hours." Adara indicated the empty desk across the crowded little room, and Yaniv barely managed not to roll his eyes as he moved over and got to work. He set aside his disappointment, he would not be even able to see her this afternoon before leaving, instead he would have to call the girl from the airport and make his excuses.