John Shiffman - Operation Shakespeare: The True Story of an Elite International Sting

ALSO BY JOHN SHIFFMAN

Priceless: How I Went Undercover to Rescue the Worlds Stolen Treasures (with Robert K. Wittman)

Simon & Schuster

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New York, NY 10020

www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright 2014 by John Shiffman

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Simon & Schuster Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition July 2014

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Interior design by Paul Dippolito

Map by Paul J. Pugliese

Jacket design by Base Art Co.

Jacket photographs: man David Oliver/Getty Images;

Mosque Nabeel Turner/Getty Images

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

1. Operation Shakespeare, 20042009. 2. Technology transferGovernment policyUnited States. 3. Undercover operationsUnited States. 4. War on Terrorism, 20012009. 5. TerrorismPreventionUnited States. 6. National securityUnited States. 7. Intelligence serviceUnited States. 8. United States. Department of Homeland Security. I. Title.

T174.3.S58 2014

338.973'06dc23

2013037116

ISBN 978-1-4516-5513-1

ISBN 978-1-4516-5519-3(ebook)

This book grew out of a series of articles by the author that was published in The Philadelphia Inquirer.

To Cathy and Outkast Platoon

They think the war is coming.

AMIR ARDEBILI

Our hands are full of business, lets away,

Advantage feeds him fat while men delay.

HENRY IV, PART I

The heart of this book is based on repeated interviews with the participants, as well as hundreds of supporting American, Iranian, and Georgian documents, only a handful of which are available in the public record. The book is also based on two additional key troves of nonpublic informationthe contents of Amir Ardebilis laptop, which contained four years of Iranian procurement records, and the full-length undercover videos recorded by U.S. Homeland Security Investigations (HSI) agents. Most participants were interviewed on the record, but a few spoke on a not-for-attribution basis on certain topics, either because they were not authorized to talk publicly or because they feared retribution. The undercover agent who called himself Darius requested anonymity, and the British arms dealer, Clyde Pensworth, requested a pseudonym. For safety reasons, a handful of facts have been withheld.

Late on a fall afternoon, a small crowd gathered near baggage claim. The modest airport, a two-story burst of sloping steel and glass, otherwise stood largely vacant. The ticket counters were closed, the tourist kiosks bare, all four departure gates empty. Only twenty-four commercial flights landed here daily, and almost all of them arrived and departed in the hazy hours between midnight and dawn.

One man towered above the others in the airport lobby. He stood six-foot-five, with neatly parted brown hair, a square jaw, and stern gray eyes. He was fifty-three years old and looked like any of the Russian and German businessmen who flew here regularly from Moscow and Munich. He spoke Russian and called himself Darius, a name that sounded Persian but could be Baltic.

Sleep-deprived and adrenaline-fueled, Darius fought to remain focused. He had waited on a target in this manner countless times and knew this would be his last major operation. Todays mark was arriving from Tehran. Darius had the mans name, but no picture. He scanned the airport foyer for Iranian counter-surveillance. Nothing stood out, but this was the former Soviet republic of Georgia, birthplace of Stalin, and the legacy of KGB intrigue lingered.

A veteran of the Cold War, Darius carried in his wallet official-looking documents identifying himself as an East European arms broker. Yet he was neither European nor a spy. Darius was a cop, an undercover agent from U.S. Homeland Security. Outside the airport entrance, an undercover Georgian policeman playing the part of Dariuss driver waited beside a black Mercedes SUV with crimson window curtains. Embedded inside the cars rearview mirror were a camera and microphone, ready to record conversations during the ride downtown.

In the terminal, a dour Georgian from the Ministry of Internal Affairs pulled close and discreetly slipped Darius the flight manifest. He skimmed the two-page passenger list until he recognized a name. Darius suppressed a smile, folded the document, and gave a silent signal to his cover team.

Thirty-five miles south of Baghdad, near a city called Iskandariyah, a cherub-faced second lieutenant from New Jersey set off with his platoon on a routine patrol. Seth Dvorin commanded Outkast Platoon, seventeen men stationed at a major power facility near the banks of the Euphrates River. Lieutenant Dvorin was a Rutgers University graduate and twenty-four years old. This marked his fifth month in combat.

Dvorins men ventured outside like this virtually every day, beyond the barbed wire and concrete fort, clearing roads in advance of long Army convoys. They lugged M4 carbine rifles, M249 light machine guns, and seventy pounds of gear, sometimes in Humvees, sometimes on foot, always alert for deadly handmade roadside bombs, or IEDs, shorthand for improvised explosive devices. The enemy hid IEDs everywhereinside abandoned tires, paint cans, concrete chunks, dead dogs, boxes of candy, mannequins, behind signs and posters. The Army trained soldiers like Lieutenant Dvorin to scan for danger signsfresh piles of dirt in a roadway, odd objects hanging from trees and electrical poles, or sudden insurgent signals: a flare launch, blinking lights from a nearby home, a single gun shot fired as a convoy entered a village. Lieutenant Dvorin also learned to look for things that werent there, odd situations, like the absence of children in a place where kids usually played, or a caf, busy one day, vacant the next.

The enemy triggered IEDs in three ways: by detonating cord, timer, or remote control. The wired cords were of course easier to spot, and sometimes the remote control triggers could be thwarted by radio wave jammers mounted on the Humvees. But lately, U.S. soldiers in Iraq were discovering more sophisticated remote timers and triggers inside the IEDs, including, incredibly, products manufactured in American factories. Insurgents in both Iraq and Afghanistan were acquiring American-made components to help kill U.S. soldiersand the growing evidence showed that Iran was smuggling the IED parts from the United States to the battlefield.

Dvorin and his men didnt disarm the roadside bombs; they spotted them and radioed experts from disposal units. They didnt always see them in time. In Iraq and Afghanistan, at least 2,500 U.S. soldiers have died in IED attacks, accounting for nearly half of the total killed by hostile fire. In the coming months, seven of the seventeen men in Lieutenant Dvorins platoon would be gravely wounded; three would die, killed by remote control IEDs.

Once you go outside the wire, if you aint got butterflies, you aint human, recalled Private First Class Jeffrey Williams, who manned the platoons .50 caliber gun and lost the use of his legs following an IED attack. Whenever the platoon ventured beyond the wire, Lieutenant Dvorin and his sergeant took turns staying behind at camp. This ensured that if the platoon were attacked, one leader would survive.