RIO DE JANEIRO, Brazil — It's an extraordinary achievement to win the Nobel Peace Prize. But for this year's laureate, even getting to the ceremony was a feat of its own.
María Corina Machado has spent more than a year in hiding after her opposition movement defeated President Nicolás Maduro in last year's election — a vote widely viewed as fraudulent. Getting her out of Venezuela and safely to Oslo required an operation worthy of a thriller.
At the center of that mission was U.S. Special Forces Veteran Bryan Stern, the bearded, broad-shouldered founder of Grey Bull Rescue Foundation. Stern and his team of U.S. military veterans have pulled off hundreds of extractions around the world. But this one, he says, was different.
"She's the second most popular person in the Western Hemisphere after Maduro," he said. "Because of that signature, that's what made this operation very hard."
Stern and his team had only a week to plan Machado's escape, a mission they called Operation Golden Dynamite — a nod to Alfred Nobel, the Peace Prize founder who also invented dynamite.
A land route was ruled out — too many checkpoints where she'd be recognized. So, they decided to move by sea.
But they had to be careful. The U.S. military has built up a significant presence off Venezuela's coast, destroying nearly two dozen alleged narco-trafficking boats in recent months, killing at least 87 people. Stern wouldn't discuss details, but says he coordinated with U.S. officials who were aware they'd be operating in the area.
He was careful to avoid using a boat that could turn into a target. "I didn't want a big giant boat with big engines that could go fast and cut through waves," he said. "That's what the narcos use — and the U.S. military likes to blow them up."
Then their plan hit another snag: Machado's boat never arrived at the predetermined rendezvous point in the Caribbean Sea.
"We were supposed to meet in the middle, but when that couldn't happen, we pivoted and went to them," Stern said.
In pitch darkness, with 10-foot waves smashing the sides of both boats and only flashlights to guide them, nerves frayed. Each crew worried the other could be cartel members, government agents, or worse.
"I could be Maduro's guys, I could be cartel guys — anything really," Stern said. "Everyone is skittish approaching each other in the dead of night at sea. In 10-foot waves? This is scary stuff."
Finally, once they were close enough to hear one another, a voice cut across the water.
"It's me — María!"
Stern hauled her aboard. With the wind at their backs, the final leg to a Caribbean island — which he declined to name, but is widely reported to be Curaçao — was mercifully smooth. A private plane was waiting to take her the rest of the way to Oslo.
Stern says Machado was tougher than the crusty veterans helping her escape.
"We're all bitching and moaning — it's cold, it's wet, we're hungry, it's dark," he said. "She didn't complain once."
Stern admits he was a bit star struck by Machado. He'd followed her fight for democratic change for years. He'd always assumed Venezuela's "Iron Lady" got her nickname from her political steeliness. But after that night, he says it's something more.
"She's gnarly," he said, laughing. "Pretty awesome."
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