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Lee Iacocca with a Twist


 


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Closing down C-Chase

Fahd bin Abdul Aziz

Sultan Bin Abdul Aziz

Naef Bin Abdul Aziz

Salman Bin Abdul Aziz

Ahmad Bin Abdul Aziz

CHAPTER 16
 
The focus of Operation C-Chase had gradually but radically shifted by May of 1988. BCCI was all-important. The federal agents were deter-mined to reach as deep into the bank as possible. Bringing down a corrupt bank and its officers would score a first for Customs. The first trip to Europe that month would be the critical opening gambit of this phase of the operation. It was a risky one, too.
 
In Tampa and Miami, Bob Mazur had been able to bring the bankers along slowly over a period of weeks and months. If the time did not seem right, he was free to skip revealing the incriminating details crucial to winning the case in court. He still had not talked about drugs directly with Akbar Ah Bilgrami. If there was no pickup of drug cash, he could wait patiently for a call from Gonzalo Mora, Jr., before pumping more money into the laundering system.
 
Such luxuries would not be possible in Europe. Too much advance planning and expense were required to set up undercover meetings in foreign countries. Mazur and Emir Abreu would have to move fast. There would be no chance to schmooze for days or weeks with BCCI executives. They needed to blind the bankers by offering a huge deposit, then make it clear that the money was coming from drugs.
 
As for the money, Mazur needed a lot. It would be the equivalent of "flash money" in a drug-buying operation. Agents flash a suitcase filled with cash to show that they have the goods before the dealers reveal the location of the cocaine. In a rare move, $5 million in taxpayer funds had been wired into Mazur's account at Florida National Bank and he was prepared to deposit it with BCCI in Paris to demonstrate that he was a major player, worthy of special attention.
 
It had taken weeks to get approvals from authorities in Switzerland, France, and Britain to use hidden recorders to monitor undercover meetings in those countries. Because they wanted to be as mobile as possible, the recording would be done by Mazur with his James Bond briefcase, but U.S. authorities still needed to get foreign approval to avoid possible later objections from defense attorneys about the admissibility of the taped evidence. A Swiss magistrate had heard the request in a secret session and finally approved it late in April. Britain had been slightly easier, since a court visit was not required. In France, the Customs attach6 at the U.S. Embassy in Paris had discussed using wiretaps with French customs officials and was given a quick green light.
 
Another layer of complexity involved the Colombians. Since the trip to Costa Rica, Gonzalo Mora, Jr., had decided that he would go to Europe, too. Rudolf Armbrecht, one of Don Chepe's lieutenants, was leery of establishing the new laundering network, so Mora was bringing him along. He could meet Bob Mazur and Mazur could persuade him to buy into the system. By the way, Mora had added, he would be bringing his wife. He planned to make a holiday out of the trip by going on to Madrid and Rome.
 
Bright and early on the morning of May 12, Mazur drove into the parking garage at 1200 Brickell Avenue in Miami and took the elevator to Awan's office on the fifteenth floor. In a few days, he was leaving for Europe. He wanted to go over the last details of the itinerary that Awan and Bilgrami had planned for him.
 
The first stop would be BCP in Geneva, where Mazur would meet with Franz Maissen, a bank official whom he had met briefly once before in Miami. BCCI owned a majority interest in BCP, but a Swiss bank held the remaining stock and Maissen answered to the Swiss. A few days earlier, Maissen had telephoned Bilgrami and asked questions about the nature of Mazur's business, since he had been moving large amounts of money through the bank.
 
"I would suggest you don't tell them anything of it at all," advised Awan. Bilgrami added that Mazur should simply tell BCP that his businesses in the United States included a securities brokerage, a mortgage company, and a real estate firm and that Awan and Bilgrami handled the account.
Less trouble was envisioned at the next stop, Paris. There, Mazur was to meet with Nazir Chinoy, BCCI's chief for Europe, and perhaps some other officials. "Paris is quite happy to do whatever you want," said Awan. "They would handle everything, no questions asked."
 
The prospect of Mazur depositing $5 million in BCCI tantalized the bankers. They questioned him repeatedly about the timing of the deposit, with Bilgrami urging him to place the money by June 30. That was the close of the bank's half year and it would make them look good if they could take credit for a major deposit on the books then.
 
Mazur and Abreu flew by commercial airline from New York to Geneva, Switzerland, arriving on the morning of May 18. From outward appearances, it seemed to be a romantic vacation, for they were accompanied by undercover Customs agents Kathy Ertz and Linda Kane. Since Mora had said he was bringing his wife, it was decided that the agents should be accompanied by the women who had been introduced to the Colombian previously as their companions. It also would provide another layer of cover if they were invited to social functions during the trip.
 
The next morning, Mazur and Abreu went to the BCP offices in Geneva's financial district and met with Franz Maissen and his general manager, Azizullah Chaudhry. Maissen was a button-down Swiss banker and, as expected, the meeting was formal and cool. Mazur described his business enterprises and said he hoped to increase his transactions with the bank. Near the end of the brief meeting, Abreu rented a safe deposit box and paid a year's fee in advance. Then they departed, with neither side any wiser about the other.
 
Paris was different. Arriving at the Bank of Credit and Commerce International's offices on the wide Champs Elysees on the afternoon of May 20, Mazur and Abreu were greeted warmly by Nazir Chinoy. The bank's general manager for Europe provided the service that had made BCCI famous in many parts of the world. He fussed over his customers, inquiring about their hotel and promising to send a car there the following evening to bring the four Americans to his apartment for drinks with his family.
 
The business discussion was different, too. The agent and the banker talked openly and with seeming candor. This was the time to flash the big dollars and pull Chinoy into the net.
 
Mazur said that he hoped to deposit $1 million in the Paris branch within the next few days on behalf of a client. He added that he intended to transfer $4 million to BCCI Paris soon on behalf of himself and Abreu. These two deposits would remain for six months and Mazur said he did not intend to borrow against them. Gravy for the bank. And protection for Mazur's money. For the agent had no intention of paying out $4 million from these accounts to Gonzalo Mora, Jr., or his friends. This was Uncle Sam's money, the $5 million arranged by Customs headquar-ters in Washington. He would be leaving it in the bank as bait.
 
After tossing out the big numbers, Mazur launched into his patented pitch about the need for strict confidentiality for his clients, many of whom he explained were South American. The $1 million deposit, he explained, was money that belonged to a client named Rudolf Armbrecht.
 
The banker assured the American that he would be able to trust him and two of the branch's senior officers, Ian Howard, the country manager in Paris, and Sibte Hassan, Chinoy's chief assistant. Chinoy introduced Mazur briefly to Hassan and said that he would meet the Englishman Howard later.
 
No doubt to reassure him that the bank could keep a secret, Chinoy told Mazur a story. An army general had died, leaving 60,000 British pounds in illegal funds in an account at another bank. The man had been a friend of Chinoy's and his distraught widow approached the banker for help. The other bank was demanding probate records to release the funds to her, but that would show the general was a crook. With Chinoy's help, the widow got the funds without disclosure of the general's unnamed illegal activities. Chinoy told Mazur he was sur-prised that someone would risk his reputation for 60,000 pounds. Sixty million pounds, now that, he said, he could understand.
 
"If some of your clients have a problem, we will try our best to hide it from [the authorities]," Chinoy assured Mazur. "We'll give you as much cover as we can."
 
Mazur explained that he had recently witnessed a demonstration of the bank's loyalty. He described a telephone call he had overheard in Awan's office. An associate of General Manuel Noriega had called the banker. It was after the February indictment. Awan agreed when the associate asked him to help Noriega conceal his funds by moving them through the BCCI system. Mazur said he was impressed by Awan's loyalty to Noriega.
 
"Today, it's him [Noriegaj. God forbid tomorrow it might be us," interjected Chinoy.
 
Unfortunately, the American continued, one of his own clients had been less loyal to the general, despite a history of profitable dealings between the men. After Panama's banks froze all cash in March, the client had sent Noriega a coffin containing a note: If the client lost any of the money he had in Panamanian banks, Noriega would need the coffin. Mazur observed that he had been much more impressed by the way Awan had aided a customer in trouble. "It's worth it," replied Chinoy. "It's an amazing position of power. We had benefited and we'd made money. When the tide changes, we cannot change. Because we owe him. There's a certain amount of gratitude."
 
"I think if you, eventually if you meet some of my friends, I think if they were in a room with Lee lacocca, they could easily be mingling with corporate executives," said Mazur. "lacocca sells cars and they sell coke. And that's the way they deal in their business. Everything is profession-al, professional, professional."
 
"That is how it should be with every major client 'cause it's a close personal relationship," agreed Chinoy. Withdrawing some papers from his briefcase, Mazur said that he wanted to open an account in the name of Nicesea Shipping Ltd. Mazur said he wanted to obtain a power of attorney over the account for Armbrecht. Mazur also said he wanted to open an account in the name of Saintsea Shipping for Emir Abreu and another under the name of Barkeville Ltd. for himself. Kathy Erickson also would have power of attorney for Barkeville. Chinoy summoned Sibte Hassan, who helped fill out the proper forms.
 
When Chinoy and Mazur were alone again, the agent told the banker in confidential tones that he wanted Amjad Awan to remain his lead account executive. "I don't have to talk of this, you know, drug dealers in Colombia are the types of people that-"
 
Chinoy interrupted, saying: "Yeah, I've understood it. I didn't ask, okay, but I followed the deal."
 
At Chinoy's apartment the following evening, Mazur moved the banker to one side of the living room and spoke privately with him. Several important clients would be visiting him from Colombia. It would help his negotiations if Chinoy met them. Chinoy was happy to accommodate him, even suggesting that he could assign a BCCI account executive to the customers. It would be convenient since the executive already traveled to Colombia regularly to consult with other clients there.
 
The Hotel de la Tremoille is a small, elegant hotel on the street of the same name in what is known as the haute couture district of Paris. It was around the corner from the glitzier Plaza Athenee, about half a mile from the Arc de 'Iriomphe and the Champs Elysees. Mazur and Abreu, with their companions, had arranged for separate suites at the hotel.
 
It was in Abreu's suite, Room 110, that they met with Gonzalo Mora, Jr., and Javier Ospina on the afternoon of May 22, 1988. The two Colombians had just arrived from Caracas, Venezuela. They were tired and hungover from too much drinking on the long flight. Nonetheless, the first thing Ospina wanted when he got to the room was a Scotch.
 
"Let's get to the point," he said once he got a drink in his hand.
 
Ospina explained that Rudolf Armbrecht was in Paris, too, along with a Colombian lawyer, Santiago Uribe. Indeed, they had come over on the same flight. Armbrecht, whom he described as a former commercial airline pilot of German and Colombian descent, planned to launder $5 million this trip, $4 million of it going to a bank in Germany where Armbrecht's uncle worked and the remainder with Mazur in Paris.
 
This $5 million was not important, said Ospina. What mattered was that Mazur would have to convince Armbrecht that his organization had the capacity and security to handle large volumes of money. Mora explained that money previously laundered through Panama was now looking for a new home. The Colombians no longer wanted to deal with an unstable government and distrusted Noriega, fearing he might sell them out to the Americans in a deal to erase his indictment. Thus, he said, it was important for Mazur to win Armbrecht's confidence so they could land a big portion of the rerouted money. To help, he suggested that Mazur introduce Armbrecht to "the heavy bankers."
 
Armbrecht was hosting a dinner that evening for all of them and their companions. Mazur objected, saying he had a previous engagement with a top BCCI banker, but Ospina insisted, arguing that Armbrecht was too important to risk offending. Mora, who was far more reasonable than the slightly drunken Ospina, explained that a meeting that night was especially important.
 
A potential competitor was coming to Paris the next day. His name was Eduardo, and he was trying to back up his operations in Panama with new contacts in Europe. Panama is finished, said Mora. Later, Customs agents were able to identify the competitor as Eduardo Martinez-Romero, the big Colombian money launderer targeted by Operation Polarcap.
 
Had Mazur been less compulsive about planning, or if he had found Ospina less intolerable, he might have given in and changed his plans, but he held fast, insisting that he would meet with Armbrecht the next day. He told Ospina to arrange it.
 
On May 23, in the lobby of the Georges V, one of the finest and most expensive hotels in Paris, Mazur finally met the pilot-turned-drug-financier. Recalling the way Gonzalo Mora and his cousin had burst into his meeting with Awan and Bilgrami five months earlier in Miami, Mazur had worried about the impression that Armbrecht might make when he introduced him to the BCCI bankers in Paris. There seemed no reason for such concerns now.
 
Armbrecht was far more impressive than the drunken Ospina or rotund Mora. He was about five feet, six inches tall, compactly built, and balding. He was poised and quiet, and spoke excellent English as a result of extensive stays in the United States. Much of that time was spent supervising money laundering for Don Chepe, but there was still time for buying and flying airplanes.
 
The Colombian expressed no hard feelings over the missed dinner.
 
Instead, he seemed anxious to learn more about Mazur's American network. Mazur responded with a rundown on his operation and its security, the CD-loan scheme and the BCCI connection. Armbrecht, he said, should consider investing some of his cash in property through one of Mazur's businesses. But Armbrecht resisted, saying: "We are not very interested in investing the money in property. We are cash oriented." A bit later, Armbrecht explained. "I'm in all these money matters because basically I'm very trusting."
 
The two men left the Georges V and walked toward the Hotel de la 'Iremoille, where they were to meet with the others for additional discussions. On the way, Armbrecht cautioned Mazur not to reveal too many details of his system to Ospina because he was weak and could be pressured. Armbrecht had been disgusted by Ospina's behavior at dinner the night before. He drank too much and talked too loud. Mazur, whose initial distaste for Ospina in Costa Rica had only been strength-ened in Paris, was happy to agree. He said that he would arrange for a private meeting between his banker and Armbrecht the next day to go over details.
 
Armbrecht was indeed very trusting. In Mazur's suite, he explained in great detail what he was looking for as a mechanism to launder funds for his employer, Don Chepe. Looking over the power of attorney and other forms that Mazur had had created for him at BCCI a few days earlier, he said: "This is a mil. No big deal, okay. So we don't like to put all these eggs in one basket unless it's a very, very good basket. And even then we are not going to do it. But the basket could eventually grow and be a very sizable kind of thing."
 
After the long meeting, the men were joined by Lucy Mora, Kathy Ertz, and Linda Kane for dinner and a trip to La Scala, a trendy Paris disco. Shortly after midnight, Armbrecht took Mazur aside in the disco and told him that Javier Ospina was being sent back to Colombia on the pretext that he was needed there. A few minutes later, Abreu spoke in Spanish with Uribe and Armbrecht. He later told Mazur that Uribe had asked him to kill Ospina if it became necessary.
 
The C-Chase agents never saw Ospina again after that night. They heard various rumors. That he had been killed in a gunfight. That he had been murdered for making sexual advances toward Armbrecht on the flight to Paris. That he was alive and still operating in Colombia on behalf of Don Chepe.
 
Customs intelligence agents had been scouring their files and probing other agencies and informants. Don Chepe, the mastermind of the cocaine ring supplying the cash for the operation, remained unidentified.
 
Several names had come up. A major figure in the Cali cartel, one of the rivals to the Medellin cartel, used the nickname. So did a couple of minor figures in the Medellin organization. The Cali one did not wash at all. Everything pointed to Medellin.
 
One of the recurring names was Gerardo Moncado, a member of the Medellin cartel's upper echelon but one who kept a low profile and maintained his riches in the shadows. As time had passed, the C-Chase team came to believe that Moncado was their man. So, when Gonzalo Mora, Jr., arrived at Abreu's room at the Tremoille on May 24, 1988, Mazur asked him if Moncado was among the Colombians arriving in Paris that day.
 
Yes, said Mora. Armbrecht might be able to arrange for Mazur to meet Moncado. But Mora was reluctant to say much about Moncado, except that he and Armbrecht were on the same team.
 
The prospect of meeting with the suspected Don Chepe raised the hopes of Mazur and Abreu. Here was the chance for a double victory. Nazir Chinoy was the highest-ranking BCCI official yet caught up in C-Chase. Maybe Gerardo Moncado would move them up the ladder within the Medellin cartel, too.
 
Shortly after three o'clock on the afternoon of May 24, Mazur escorted Armbrecht and Uribe to the BCCI offices on the Champs Elysees to meet Ian Howard and Nazir Chinoy.
 
As on the previous day, Armbrecht was full of detailed questions about bank secrecy rules, the fees BCCI planned to charge, the bank's general philosophy. He was particularly concerned about the potential for a bank failure, since there was no chance his organization would recover any funds lost in such a disaster. For the agent of a drug lord, he talked like a bank examiner. Armbrecht knew that BCCI did extensive business in Third World countries, including some through its branches in Colombia. Did BCCI lend to Third World countries? Could the failure of any single company topple the bank?
 
Chinoy was reassuring. The bank saw itself as a bridge to the Third World and dealt with many of those countries on trade finance matters, but, he said, its loans were minimal. As far as fees, Chinoy said the bank was flexible with its customers and interested in long-term relationships. One percent was the usual fee on a certificate of deposit. But it was negotiable, especially when large sums were involved.
 
"I am having a very good impression of the bank, and of yourselves," Armbrecht told the BCCI bankers.
 
Two brief meetings were held between the undercover agents and Ian Howard the following day. Mazur rented a safe deposit box for documents from the accounts he had set up earlier in the week and told Howard that he would be transferring $1.8 million into his Barkeville account and $1.2 million in Armbrecht's Nicesea account. It seemed the bankers had made a good impression on the cautious Colombian. Howard and Mazur agreed to set up a code for telephone communications concerning the accounts.
 
Later that day, Abreu took Gonzalo Mora, Jr., to BCCI and introduced him to Sibte Hassan, saying that he wanted to show Mora what a strong relationship he and Mazur had with the bank.
 
"These people handle a lot of money from proceeds from narcotics, especially cocaine," Abreu explained in English to Hassan. Gesturing to Mora, he said, "He understands the needs and he understands how to help and how to assist."
 
"Any friend of yours is a friend of mine," replied Hassan.
 
That night it was time to assess the Paris trip. Armbrecht and his entourage, which now included the Moras, were leaving the next morning for Rome and the C-Chase crew was headed for London.
 
From the operational viewpoint, Paris was a rousing success. Chinoy, Howard, and Hassan were added to the list of BCCI trophies. Armbrecht was a big step up the Medellin ladder. Pleased with the BCCI arrangement and confident of Mazur's operation, he had agreed to begin sending $5 million to $10 million a month through the system.
 
There had been a couple of disappointments. They never met Gerardo Moncado, and were not even sure he ever came to Paris. And Kathy Ertz had gotten terribly sick the second day in Paris. Food poisoning in the world's food capital. She had spent much of the trip in bed.
 
London was an anticlimax. The reception was nowhere near as cool as in Geneva, but not nearly so warm and productive as in Paris.
 
The agents checked into the Portman Hotel, a large, fairly expensive place on Portman Square in central London on May 26. Amjad Awan had arranged for Mazur to meet with Asif Baakza, the manager of BCCI's corporate unit at its Leadenhall Street headquarters. Mazur expected to meet Baakza for lunch on May 27, but the banker canceled.
 
Instead, they met in Mazur's hotel room at six o'clock that evening.
 
"What we need to accomplish has to do with the placement and transfer of funds in a very, very confidential and secure fashion," Mazur said.
The banker was somewhat cautious. He explained that BCCI London offered a manager's ledger account to customers seeking total privacy. He compared it to a numbered account in Switzerland. Only he and one other individual in the bank would have access to Mazur's records. But, he added: "I don't want to know anything that I don't need to know. It's as simple as that."
 
Undeterred, Mazur said that his clients were mostly respectable Colombians. By way of comparison, he trotted out the analogy he had used with Chinoy.
 
"Really, I think that if they were in the same room with Lee lacocca, they probably would be confused as being corporate executives with Chrysler," he said. "It's just that they aren't in that business and, you know, these people are very, very feared people. That's why I made sure I researched everything to the nth degree before I actually moved here."
 
"Uh-huh," grunted the banker, not knowing exactly how to keep this American from telling him more than he wanted to know.
"When you're dealing with the most powerful men in Colombia, who are involved in drug dealing, you need to make sure you know what you're doing."
 
"That's right. That's right," agreed Baakza.
 
"lacocca sells cars and they sell coke. And that's the only difference. But they're executives about the whole thing."
 
It was Mazur's only meeting with Baakza. Indeed, the ultimate goal of the trip to London had been to meet with Swaleh Naqvi, who was running the bank as a result of Agha Hasan Abedi's heart surgery and continuing health problems. For weeks, Mazur had tried to persuade Awan to set up a session with Naqvi. but it did not happen, nor was Mazur able to arrange meetings with any other BCCI officials in London. So he and his crew packed up and headed home to some unexpected trouble.
 
Akbar Ah Bilgrami slipped into the net on June 6, 1988. The time was shortly after nine in the morning. Mazur went to BCCI's offices in Miami to report on his trip to Europe. Awan was out of town, so he met only with Bilgrami.
 
The trip had been a resounding success in Paris, said the American. Already he had deposited $4 million in accounts there. Franz Maissen had proven to be cool and conservative, and the relationship with Baakza and London was just beginning. Sensing some anxiety on Bilgrami's part, Mazur added that he intended to deposit another $2 million in his Lamont Maxwell account through Miami in a matter of days.
 
A short way into the conversation, Bilgrami took a telephone call. The conversation was conducted in Urdu, but Mazur picked up the words "U.S. Customs Service." He questioned Bilgrami when he hung up the phone.
 
"I heard you mention my client's adversary there," said Mazur. "You, you do business with the U.S. government?"
 
Bilgrami shook his head no, explaining that BCCI was providing a financial guarantee to the Customs Service on behalf of a client, Eastern Airlines. Under its controversial new zero-tolerance program, the Cus-toms Service was seizing property any time it found even a small amount of drugs. In this case, Bilgrami explained, the authorities had seized one of Eastern's jetliners after discovering a kilo of cocaine aboard.
 
BCCI's guarantee would allow Eastern to essentially bail out the plane and continue using it.
 
Mazur nodded and said, "If you were to meet my clients-"
 
"No, no," interrupted Bilgrami, waving his hands. "I'm not interested in meeting your clients."
 
He didn't want the banker to meet his clients, Mazur said reassuringly. He only wanted to explain that they were professional, people who would mix well with, say, Lee lacocca.
 
"He sells cars and they sell cocaine and that's the end of it," said Mazur. "Never to be brought up again."
 
Bilgrami, who had been far more cautious than Aftab Hussain, Awan, or Chinoy, was flustered and slightly angered.
 
"I don't want to know what they sell," he stammered. "I won't tell you, I, I'm not interested in what they do, what kind of business, in dealing with you. We know your business. And, ah, ah, we keep all client relations confidential."
 
With that, Bilgrami turned the conversation back to a more suitable subject. They resumed their discussion of Mazur's money transfers within BCCI.
 
Later that morning, Mazur met Rudolf Armbrecht at Miami Interna-tional Airport and they took the 12:30 Eastern Airlines flight to Tampa. On the way, Armbrecht announced that he was going to Nashville, Tennessee, to pick up a used Rockwell Commander 1000 airplane that he was having refurbished. Among the additions, he said, was a $150,000 computerized navigational system. Once that was done, Armbrecht would fly the plane to his associates in Colombia.
 
Touring Mazur's offices in New Port Richey, Armbrecht provided as succinct a definition of money laundering as one would ever hear anywhere.
 
"The system is like a merry-go-round," he said. "We get the money over here. We reroute it. We clean it. We do everything with it. Okay. Then we have it in legally and totally nice accounts with everything over there."
 
He repeated his promise to Mazur that far larger volumes of cash would soon begin to flow through the American's network. However, he cautioned Mazur that he liked to keep an eye on a new associate.
 
"Sometimes there are fishy things to watch," he said.
 
As they prepared to go to Mazur's beachfront condominium and meet Kathy Ertz for dinner, Armbrecht asked Mazur if he would be interested in a little import business. Not cocaine, but marble desks. He said there was a good market for them in the United States, and a big markup.
 
Like many pilots, Rudy Armbrecht fancied himself a ladies' man, and Kathy Ertz was a lady who sparked his interest. After dinner, the two of them left Mazur behind and walked along the Gulf of Mexico beach for more than an hour. When they returned, they played chess until two in the morning.
 
If timing is everything, what happened at the end of June 1988 in Detroit could scarcely have been worse for C-Chase. The blame could have been laid on Don Chepe's organization for mixing drugs and money, but the real culprits were federal agents. And there was not much they could have done to avoid it.
 
Don Chepe's drug distribution in Detroit was carried out predomi-nantly by a group of Chaldeans. These are Christian Arabs, usually from Iraq, and they had been attracted to Detroit's large Middle Eastern community.
 
Unfortunately for C-Chase, they were a bit sloppy and mixed drugs and money.
 
In the Detroit operation, the same large truck used to carry cocaine north from Florida or Louisiana was used to haul money back south for laundering. Since Emir Abreu had started making the cash pickups, the money was no longer going south, but they were still using the truck to deliver the cash to him.
 
DEA agents investigating the Chaldeans had spotted the suspicious truck back in January and reluctantly done nothing about what they figured was a load of drugs after Customs agents assured them the truck contained money. But the DEA agents warned their Customs counter-parts in Detroit that they would not let the truck pass if they thought it contained a shipment of cocaine.
 
"They're not using that truck for money," said a DEA agent in a phone call to a Customs agent in January.
 
"We don't think they're bringing money north to you. If this truck comes back up, we have every reason to believe it's cocaine. If it comes up again, we're going to arrest it."
 
On June 28, as undercover Customs agents prepared to make another cash pickup in Detroit, they discovered that there were two trucks at the site. One was the white tractor-trailer that the DEA was watching. The drivers were unloading boxes marked DOLE'S BANANAS and stacking them on a small blue Chevy pickup. The banana boxes weren't full of cash; they contained kilo bricks of cocaine. The Customs agents had to act or lose control of the situation. They busted everyone in sight, arresting nine people and seizing a hundred kilos of cocaine.
 
It was the biggest cocaine bust in Detroit history. There were headlines in the papers and hard feelings in the law enforcement community. The DEA felt betrayed. They had passed up what they believed was a solid seizure six months earlier only to have Customs come in and hog the show now. As the lead agency in the fight against drugs, DEA was supposed to make all the big busts.
 
A DEA agent began accusing Customs of having let an earlier cocaine shipment of equal size be distributed. The Customs SAC called him on the telephone and they traded obscenities. A short time later, the two men ran into each other in a bar and nearly got into a fistfight.
 
Word of the fracas quickly reached Washington. In early August, the Washington Times ran a big story by one of their top reporters, Michael Hedges. The headline was "Customs Fumbled on Big Drug Cargo, DEA Says." It went on to accuse the Customs service of allowing one hundred kilos of coke to slip onto Detroit's streets in January. DEA agents were quoted, but not named, accusing Customs of trying to grab the glamour and glory of the war on drugs.
 
"They got all these new boys on the block, and they think they know what they are doing, but they've got a lot of lessons to learn," said one DEA agent.
 
It was not a total loss. Neither the Washington Times story nor any other account mentioned the undercover operation, but this major drug seizure was precisely the type of mistake that Mark Jackowski and the investigators had feared would happen back in February. Avoiding it had been the reason for the Clearwater meeting. They had expected Customs in Los Angeles to mess up the delicate balance. It had been Detroit. It didn't make any difference. Jackowski and the others on the C-Chase team had known that it was inevitable.
 
Since the arrests stemmed directly from information gathered during the C-Chase investigation, the existence of the investigation itself would have to be disclosed to defense attorneys once the Detroit case got started in the judicial system. While the names of the undercover agents involved, Mazur and Abreu, could be deleted from the court papers, their mission would be compromised nonetheless. Mark Jackowski and the Customs agents in Tampa succeeded in persuading prosecutors in Detroit to hold off on filing the papers as long as possible. But there was no way that C-Chase could remain secret for much longer.
 
This problem illustrated a central management deficiency within the Customs Service. Because the agency was broken down into distinct, largely autonomous regions, there was no central command in Washing-ton that could have stopped the Detroit arrests and kept the cover on C-Chase longer.
 
The clock had started to tick. Operation C-Chase was going to have to be rolled up. Indictments would be returned soon on the people arrested in Detroit. That meant the legal process would get under way. Defense attorneys would file motions for discovery of information related to the government's case. The cocaine deal had been under surveillance because of information obtained during C-Chase. That would have to be disclosed, and probably fairly early in the process. The question was hQw long they could hang on.
 
"We weren't burned per se, but we were toasted," said one of the federal officials involved in the sensitive discussions about how to react to Detroit.
Jackowski's biggest fear was that the Colombians would somehow connect the bust to the money laundering and bolt. He wanted bodies to prosecute. He did not want a repeat of the Noriega case, with all but two minor players free in Colombia and Panama.
 
The Detroit fiasco pushed the C-Chase crew to move faster at the Bank of Credit and Commerce International. The investigators still hoped to climb the ladder within the bank, and Mazur had been trying to set up a meeting in London with Swaleh Naqvi and other high-ranking officials.
 
Ian Howard solidified his place in the ultimate case when he tele-phoned Mazur in June with a new proposal. If Mazur could deliver cash in bulk to BCCI Miami, it could be mailed to BCCI in London and deposited in accounts there. When Mazur described the proposal to Awan, the Pakistani banker was leery. He said that cash transactions were watched too carefully in the United States. As an alternative, he suggested that Mazur transport the cash to London. If he could do that, Awan was sure the bank could handle up to $10 million a month.
 
On June 30, 1988, Awan and Bilgrami told Mazur that they would be leaving BCCI by the end of the year. They planned to form an office in Miami associated with a business based in London called Capcom Financial Services Ltd. They assured Mazur that his relationship with the bank would remain unchanged and his accounts would be handled by someone of equal sensitivity and skill. But they also offered some-thing else.
 
Capcom was run by a former colleague at BCCI, Syed Ziauddin Ah Akbar. The former head of BCCI's treasury department, the man blamed within the bank for the massive trading losses that took BCCI to the brink of collapse, he had gone to work at Capcom when he left BCCI in 1986. He was handling trading and investments for wealthy individuals. Capcom also had a Chicago subsidiary, Capcom Futures, which traded futures on the Chicago Board Options Exchange. Awan and Bilgrami intended to take their list of wealthy
 
Latin American clients with them to the new job.
 
"Maybe there'll be some things we can do through the new company," said Mazur.
 
"Yes, that's what we're thinking," responded Awan, who added that he had been considering ways that they could dispose of cash for Mazur.
The night of June 30, Mazur and Kathy Ertz had invited Amjad and Sheereen Awan and Akbar Bilgrami and his Colombian wife, Gloria, to their house in Miami for drinks. They planned dinner afterward at a nearby restaurant. The agents knew the Awans and Bilgrami, but this would be the first time that they would meet
 
Bugrami's wife, who supposedly came from a wealthy Colombian family.
 
It was a pleasant social evening. Close to midnight, they wound up at Regine's, a fancy, private supper club and disco on the penthouse floor of the Grand Bay Hotel in Coconut Grove. As they sat around a table in the club, Mazur and Ertz said they had big news. They were getting married. The date was not set yet, but it would be soon and probably in Tampa. They hoped that the Awans and the Bilgramis and their other friends from BCCI would be their guests for the celebration.
 
No one would remember who came up with the idea of a wedding. There was a late-night brain-storming session the day after the Detroit bust. Steve Cook, Bob Moore, and Laura Sherman had been there. So had Bonni Tischler. Also attending was David Burns, the crack IRS agent attached to the investigation. All of them were searching for a way to draw as many of the targets together as possible for a mass arrest.
 
Plenty of tricks had been tried in bringing down other stings. A typical ploy was some sort of free cruise or big party. Operation Cashweb the year before had arrested three of its suspects by luring them aboard a boat and sailing into international waters, where they could be nabbed legally.
"Why not have a wedding?" said someone. "It's something that has never been tried."
 
It sounded logical. A chorus of voices supported the novel plan. Mazur had insinuated himself into the social as well as the business lives of some of his clients. Many of them knew Kathy Ertz, too. It was natural that they would invite them to the wedding. This would be a perfect opportunity to get them all together and make sure that Mark Jackowski did not wind up with a hollow case.
 
That night the scene was set for the showy takedown of Operation C-Chase. It would be in Tampa, where it could be planned and pulled off with the most security. The trick was to keep things up and running until they could set a date and make the arrangements for the final episode.
 


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