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International marine
giant Wärtsilä Corporation offers yacht security training.
It’s ten o’clock
at night. I’m sitting at a table in a small fluorescent-lit room
at the back of a place called International Protective Services (IPS)
in Hollywood, Florida. On the wall to my left is a large poster with mug
shots of the September 11th hijackers. Indeed, only a few blocks away
is the infamous bar where ringleader Mohammad Atta and sidekick Marwan
Alshehhi drank cocktails and played video games prior to executing their
plan of unimaginable horror.
To my right, on the
table next to the notebook I’m scribbling in, is a 24-pound Maine
Coon cat named Sarge, with huge eyes reminiscent of Elizabeth Taylor’s
in Cleopatra and a presence that, for all its apparent affability, is
intimidating.
A padded room for the
teaching of hand-to-hand combat techniques is part of the scene beyond
the door and a firing range with adjoining armory, loaded with Glocks,
Berettas, and assault rifles. There’s a store out there, too, purveying
all the tools of the counterterrorism trade, from HAZMAT gear to surveillance
equipment. During the day it’s staffed by three guys, each wearing
a Kimber 45-caliber semiautomatic pistol on his belt, cocked and loaded.
Eyeing me with the same
vaguely intimidating affability that characterizes his cat, IPS president
Walter Philbrick says, “Something extra that we offer our students
is a technique for the nonviolent management of guests.”
I give him a quizzical
look.
“Just sit right
there,” Philbrick says, and with surprising agility, he gets up from
the table, circles rapidly, then stands behind me with one hand companionably
on my shoulder. He’s a big man, not tall but beefy, muscular. His
broad face reminds me of Darrin McGavin’s in the old “Mike Hammer”
TV series. A retired Hialeah, Florida, homicide detective, ex-SWAT Team
leader, black belt judo/jujitsu expert, and security consultant to American
Airlines, he’s also one of two instructors teaching a new, two-day,
$750-per-person course on yacht security for international maritime giant
Wärtsilä Corporation’s Land & Sea Academy.
“Let’s say
you’re not a terrorist…you’re a famous rock star, Bill,”
he says, as I feel the slowly escalating pressure of his fingers on the
brachial nerve in my neck, “and you’re behaving a little badly
in the skylounge. And we need to get you down to your stateroom without
causing a scene.
“Now, Bill,”
he pauses (for effect, I suppose), then clamps down suddenly, “Why
don’t you just stand up and come with me?”
Pain stabs through my
body with stunning speed—it renders me absolutely and instantly compliant.
Under the influence of Philbrick’s right hand, I arise like a puppet
and begin moving off at his behest. No fuss, no muss. To an observer,
I suppose the two of us might have resembled a couple of old long-lost
buddies, reunited at last, intent on a private chat somewhere.
“Whooo!” I
say when Philbrick turns me loose, deeply convinced of his talents in
the field of martial arts as well as pretty darn wary of them. He apologizes,
explaining that whether he’s trying to make a point with a student
or a journalist, experience and immediacy are more “instructive”
than mere talk.
Next page >
Part
2: Biernat believes that
terrorism has supplanted piracy as the real threat to ships and yachts
today. > Page 1,
2, 3
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