So, as I was saying... we looked for some breakfast at the service station where we'd spent the night sleeping in the Subprime Micra, but found the prospect of more kebab meat and spicy vegetables unappetizing in the horrendous heat and returned to the car to plan our day...
Although there were other options available to them, we were almost convinced that the UBS conspirators were planning to cross over into Iran, and to continue their journey to Mongolia traveling through Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan and Russia. Realising that we had precious little intelligence, other than reports pointing to the kidnappers traveling through Trabzon, we decided our only option was to drive to Trabzon as soon as possible, and start talking to the locals.
The drive to Trabzon was beautiful, with sweeping coastal views and surprisingly little traffic. All along the road, the police were pulling over drivers left and right, but for some reason they were leaving us alone. Were they leaving us alone because they thought dealing with a foreign driver was more hassle than it was worth, or did they know of our mission?
With the police giving us free passage we made good time, and arrived in Trabzon around 10:30am. With little else to go on, we started cruising around the town, quizzing shopkeepers about strange men in pin-striped suits purchasing large quantities of food, water or other supplies needed for a long overland expedition. After a few hours with no success, we decided another approach would be required and retired for lunch to consider our options.
By this time our appetites had somewhat recovered in the incredible heat and humidity of Turkey, and we devoured a kebab each, and I had a couple of strong Turkish coffees. Reenergised, we decided to try going from hotel to hotel, questioning the staff about any strange arrivals in the last couple of days.
All seemed lost as we went from hotel to hotel, with nothing to show for it, until we reached the Otel Benli, not far from the docks. The Benli's hotelier informed us of a particularly secretive group of western men who had arrived just two days ago. Apparently, the group had requested a couple of rooms with no windows if at all possible. Some hotel employees had also noticed members of the party leaving their rooms in the early hours of the morning, returning with hessian bags full of what looked like large bundles of banknotes. The men had checked out only this morning, in such a rush that they had neglected to take with them a large pile of Russian Roubles, and a map of Rostov-on-Don.
At first none of this made any sense. Sochi wasn't exactly in the direction of Mongolia, and we already knew that it wasn't possible to cross into Russia from Georgia. A moment later it struck us. They must be heading to Russia over the Black Sea. Somehow for all of this time we'd been ignoring the fact that Trabzon is the largest port on the Black Sea. With this information we rushed to the port area as quickly as we could. Maybe the banker's ferry hadn't yet left for Russia?
Frantically we went from gate to gate in docks, trying to find out where the ferries for Sochi depart from, and if any had left today. After about an hour we got the answer we had been dreading, as a security officer informed us that the Apollonia had left port for Sochi just a few hours ago. Apparently no more ferries were leaving for Sochi today, but the officer thought that another ferry might leave tomorrow afternoon, and told us to head toward the top of the docks to where the ferry agents' offices are, and look for the Deniz M---, he wasn't completely sure of the name of the agent.
Armed with this info we rushed back up the hill to the ferry agents' offices, hopeful that we would be able to find a ferry for tomorrow morning. Unfortunately, being a Sunday all of the offices were closed, but after asking around we were eventually directed to a large, hirsute Russian man who claimed, in broken english, to be able to get us onto a ferry first thing tomorrow morning.
Strangely, the Russian insisted that we return to the docks at exactly 4am, to start processing our customs paperwork. Finding this a bit odd, we thought we might have a translation problem, so I asked in Russian - "в четыре часа, не в шестнадцать?" (At four o'clock, not at sixteen o'clock?), to which the Russian man replied hastily "Yes Yes Yes, Da Da Da!".
So it appears that we have another completely inadequate night's sleep ahead of us tonight, but we can at least sleep comfortably knowing that we are now only 24 hours or so behind the bankers.
