SPY DIARIES: A Tale of Narcotics and Mysterious Romance

2:30 am the silence of the night was broken by the sudden an urgent ring of my cellphone. Drowsy as I was after a late night with friends at a pub in down town San Francisco I groped around for my cellphone. My room was illuminated by pale slivers of light emanating from the gloomy street lamps. On taking the call I realized it was my handler calling up to brief me on a certain plan of action. No doubt I had been in this line for years I still felt like a kid whenever my handler called to fill me in on the details and strategies.  His voice was husky and unearthly and the hour of the call made it all the more a top-secret matter. Agent 001 he said “Hayes street 5 am old pal, see you there” being a Britisher, new to the environment here in North America it was quite an experience. Basically, I was here in San Francisco as part of the Scotland Yard.

I reached Hayes Street at 5 am and amidst the early morning bustle of the city I met my handler Ramon. Over a cup of coffee at Starbucks I was briefed about my next case.  I was to spy on a Cuban drug lord Johnny Tapia and his various drug cartels.  That night I traced my path to the deserted by lanes of the suburbs of San Francisco rife with criminal activities. Lurking behind a wall with the darkness as my concealer I suddenly heard a voice in Spanish “to mar drogas San Diego“ I was a little too late the drugs were already packed and ready for dispersal.  I remained there trying as best as I could to catch strains of their conversation in a crude dialect of Spanish.  

The dimly lit and smoky atmosphere tinged with the smell of alcohol and gunpowder welcomed me into one of the neighborhood pubs.  I ordered a neat whiskey an asked for a napkin on which I imprinted all I heard. I sipped the cold whisky and rethought my strategies and observed the under dogs of the city as they indulged in the hedonistic pleasures of the time. The pub seemed one of their major hangouts; each gang looked at the other suspiciously.  Slumber laid her leaden mace on me and I drifted off into the starlit night. That night again Ramon called, “Building on fire mate” he said. Half asleep I pulled myself out of bed and grabbed a flash light and headed to the site of the fire.

  Charred and smoking like burnt out embers the grey ruins of the building appeared before me. The building housed the pub I was in last night. Ramon was peering up at the building. He seemed to examine it closely; I put my hand on his shoulder. The nerve in his neck quivered “arson mate, arson that’s what it is” he said. Flashlight in hand I entered the charred remains of the building to scrutinize the cause of such a massive fire.  The burnt rubble crunched as I walked through the burnt ruins. The pale light of the flash light contrasted with the burnt building made me remember the Jack-o-lanterns at Halloween – orange on the outside but a golden glow tinged with tones of black on the inside.  Searching amidst the ruins I found a small metal box. On opening it the smell of burnt gunpowder floated into my nostrils. The content of the box was roughly assembled specifically for large scale arson. The wires were loose and roughly entwined with electric circuits which sparked the fire and the gun powder fanned the flames to the greatest intensity possible.

The box and its contents were sent to the forensic center for closer examination.  I happened to enter the lobby of the Hilton hotel to meet a friend when a gorgeous woman appeared out of a partition. The flare of her pink gown was kept flying up delicately exposing her well-toned leg. I noticed a gun in a holster strapped to her thigh. She drew at my hearts deepest emotions and feelings. She plagued my mind. I followed her silently up the stairs and she disappeared into one of the many halls on the fifth floor of the hotel. Her dark brunette hair concealed her identity; she seemed so mysterious and attractive to me. I had to find out who she was. Before she slipped away in to one of the halls I noticed a strange tattoo on her neck it was a spider with “JC” inscribed in the center.

I met my friend in the lobby despite being perplexed about the mystery woman and her tattoo.  Over a glass of scotch my friend told me that many mafia leaders held their meetings here at times. The thought of the mystery woman lingered in my mind and what perplexed me was her strange tattoo. Suddenly she appeared out of nowhere and sped past the lobby and jumped into a Black Mercedes. I left the company of my friend abruptly and jumped into my Porsche. I trailed behind the car but lost track of it nearing Hayes Street. The car disappeared but I managed to note the number “SF 456 “ slowly clues were coming together but I was yet to figure  how they fitted in. I met Ramon that evening and we discussed what we had found so far.

I knew Tapia was aware of the fact that Scotland Yard was on his track and was making it harder for them to capture him. I was aware that he used to provide Russian bars and night clubs with drugs. But I was not going to let him escape I was going to track him down. I stayed up late into the wee hours of morning studying the case. It was one of the toughest cases in my career as a spy. Morning brought a surprise along with it. Ramon called anxiously saying “the Mercedes has been found at paradise villa 001, good work pal.”  The route to the villa was winding and lined with trees and a pleasant breeze was rustling the leaves. The car was parked in the drive way. The house seemed deserted and on entering,the glow of the flashlight revealed a house in disarray  as though someone had left in a hurry. The table had few plates with half eaten food and crumbs. Suddenly something glinted in the light of the flash light. It was hidden amidst the papers on the table in the corner. I ruffled through the papers and my hand fell on a broach. I examined it closely it was made of a silvery metal and was embossed with sparkling red rubies and garnets and was in the shape of a heart – bleeding heart I thought. I pocketed the broach an soon was back in the city.

The jeweler at Tiffany’s examined the broach. He told me it was basically rubies and garnets set in platinum. I asked him to track the buyer. The broach was tracked to Johnny Tapia, seems he had bought it for someone, maybe the mystery woman. While I sat at the pub sipping vodka I fingered the cold metal broach and each of its inlaid rubies and garnets and became oblivious about the things around me. Suddenly I heard someone behind me, it was Ramon clutching a Rubik cube .He was thinking intently as he stared at the coloured blocks of the cube. I showed him the jeweled broach and he peered at it intently. He put it on the table and turned it over. There was a red velvety layer. Ramon and I peeled it off and found a tiny recorder concealed within the broach. It was an ingenious idea I thought. We headed to the recording station to find out what information the recorder had in store for us. The recording was of Tapia talking to his men. He told them “acción de partier de un Lugar San Francisco” in a rough Spanish accent.

 This was a vital clue I realized he was leaving the continent because he had a bigger villa constructed in Cuba for himself. It was heavily secured but still I sent some agents to infiltrate his house and place bugs on all his communication lines so I could track all his calls. My agents ingeniously posed as electricians and painters who had come to give the place a face lift. By afternoon while Tapia was in a meeting my agents placed the bugs carefully amidst pretending to paint and repair electric fuses. After he discovered the agents in his home he shot his second in command Alejandro at point blank range staining his white marble porch crimson. My agents managed to escape unharmed. We tracked his calls mainly to Cuba we also got to know that the bodies of people he killed were used to transport all his drugs. On one such tracked call, I heard his conversation with a Russian night club owner Alexi who wanted more drugs. It seemed to me that he had a vast clientele spread across the globe. One day I tracked a call which clearly stated he was leaving the next day for Cuba. I briefed the SWAT team that evening after tracking his conversations and they flew down to Cuba with elaborate plans to eliminate him.

I kept in touch with them continuously. That fateful afternoon when no one was around the SWAT team surrounded the building and some crept steadily towards the front door and windows. The men simultaneously brought down the door and windows and threw flash grenades inside. As the Tapia family members were momentarily stunned, the team poured in from the door and windows and raced towards Tapia at the back.  His hand moved towards the gun on the side table and there was no option but to put him down as he attempted to shoot. The SWAT team continuously reported the status of their operation from Guantanamo bay. I was acclaimed for my success on this tough and complicated mission. His drug cartels eventually collapsed without a powerful man left to control the widespread business. The next day when I walked into the office I saw the same mysterious woman who had plagued me at the Hilton, the woman who had drawn on my hearts innermost feelings. She was accoutered in a similar fashion with her gun strapped to her thigh like that day.

 My handler Ramon introduced me to her as Djana Djokovich agent 002 she was a golden tanned Czechoslovakian from Florida. She was much taller than I was with a well sculpted figure and green mysterious eyes which shone in the sun light. Her toned thigh is what drew my attention to her on that faithful day at the Hilton. He had sent her to spy on Tapia as he had his meetings at the Hilton. Since she had a very mysterious air about her Tapia never suspected her at all as she gracefully flitted around the hotel and into the halls spying on him and picking up words of what he had expressed about all his future plans, his next moves and his eventual shifting of the headquarters of his drug cartels to Cuba.

She was the ideal distraction that day which diverted Tapia’s attention and enabled me to deduce and decipher Tapia’s various plans. Djana was to be my partner in crime for the next few years of my life as a spy. I was happy to work with woman of my dreams. The fading day was sealed with a kiss that evening over whiskey and Djana and I parted ways to meet again in office to be briefed about the case we were to handle as a team. Djana mesmerized me that faithful evening at Hilton for a lifetime. I eventually began dating her and became her husband later. As I write all these memories return to me as clearly as I had experienced them years ago, as a young spy back then.