MIAMI When the feds busted a syndicate of Russian-speaking nightclub owners and their so-called Bar
Girls, it seemed like just another titillating tale from South Beach.
But the April bust showed that the FBI is taking the Eastern European mob a lot more seriously these days
than the Italian Mafia. La Cosa Nostra is no longer the bureau's Public Enemy No. 1 when it comes to
organized crime in South Florida.
"Eurasian organized crime is our number one priority," said FBI supervisory special agent Rick Brodsky of
the Miami office.
In April, six reputed members of an Eastern European network - along with a Sunny Isles investor and 10
Bar Girls imported mostly from Latvia and Estonia - were charged with conspiring to seduce and fleece
unsuspecting South Beach tourists by running up their credit card bills for booze at private clubs on
Washington Avenue. The prosecution's case has moved so quickly that two of the "B-Girls" girls plan to
plead guilty on Thursday in Miami federal court.
One defense lawyer quipped that they're about to become "G-Girls," as in guilty.
Sunny Isles Beach, where some of the reputed mobsters live, has so many immigrants from the former Soviet
Union that it has earned the nickname "Little Moscow." The high-rise coastal cities of Hollywood and
Hallandale Beach also are home to many Russian-speaking nationals.
The alleged B-Girl scam was hardly the first time the Eastern European mob struck South Florida. In
February, 13 South Florida members and associates of an alleged Armenian crime organization were charged
with extortion and other offenses as part of a series of indictments against more than 100 suspects from
Miami to Los Angeles.
The main extortion charge accused ringleader Aram Khranyan, 41, of Sunny Isles Beach, and others of
threatening "physical violence" against a man if he did not pay a $12,000 debt to a member of Khranyan's
organization.
Despite the nationwide publicity, it didn't quite measure up to the B-Girl scam for sheer amusement.
Consider this tale:
Brett Daniels, a professional magician, had just finished his February show at the Gulfstream Casino when
he and a few colleagues headed down to South Beach.
At Mango's, a lively tourist spot on Ocean Drive, he met an attractive woman clad in a short leopard-skin
dress and her sidekick, who wasn't as pretty. After showing them a few magic tricks, one of the girls
told Daniels it was her birthday and proposed taking him to a private club a few blocks away to drink
Russian vodka.
Four or five shots later - he can't remember exactly - Daniels found himself fighting over an
incomprehensible $1,368 credit card tab with the owner of the Tangia club on Washington Avenue. "Pay your
bill or you're going to jail," the bouncer told him.
What Daniels didn't know at the time was that he had been scammed by the Eastern European mob, according
to the FBI.
At the helm of the alleged South Beach club racket: Alec Simchuk, 44, of Hallandale, who is now a
fugitive. Simchuck and others in his network - including Albert Takhalov, 29, of Aventura - brought in
longtime Sunny Isles real estate broker Isaac Feldman as an investor in Stars Lounge on Washington
Avenue.
Feldman, who lost his bid for a city commission seat last year, plans to fight the charges, including
conspiracy to commit wire fraud. His attorney, Myles Malman, said his client was a "minority investor" in
the Stars Lounge, which was controlled by Simchuk and Takhalov.
"He was hardly ever there and he didn't supervise or control the women," said Malman, a former federal
prosecutor. "He did not operate or run this club. The notion that the Russian mob is involved in this
club is farfetched and the ultimate stretch."
Malman then added: "My client lost everything."
That may be so, but for a while, Simchuk's organization ran up hundreds of thousands of dollars in bogus
bills for booze, wine and champagne on the credit cards of bedazzled male tourists, prosecutors charge.
All together, the B-Girls, who received 20 percent commissions for bringing in customers, ripped off
about 90 patrons, mostly tourists or businessmen with telltale signs of wealth, such as expensive watches
or shoes, authorities say.
One victim from Philadelphia, who was approached by two B-Girls at the swank Delano Hotel, complained he
was taken for $43,000 at Caviar Beach on Washington Avenue. His American Express bill included dozens of
charges for booze. Another victim was charged $5,000 for a bottle of champagne.
Authorities say the case is a sign of the mob from the former Soviet Union reaching deeper into South
Florida to commit "any type of fraud you can think of," said Brodsky, in charge of the Miami FBI's
organized crime squad. Their stocks in trade: credit card fraud, cybercrime, human trafficking,
prostitution, drugs, extortion and arms smuggling.
Brodsky said the Eastern European mob is very different from La Cosa Nostra, known for its "made men,"
"wise guys," and "good fellas."
He held up Simchuk, the alleged leader in the B-Girl case, as a classic example. Simchuk, 44, is accused
of smuggling sexy B-Girls from his Baltic State clubs back home to work in private, leased venues along
Washington Avenue. Brodsky said Simchuk works for a "thief-in-law" in his homeland who acts like a
"general," controls underworld enterprises, and resolves disputes, including using threats and violence.
A thief-in-law, known as a "Vor" in Russian, arose in Stalin's forced labor camps of political prisoners
and criminals. The term now refers to a high-ranking member of a criminal syndicate from Russia or the
former Soviet Union.
"The challenge (to law enforcement) is the hierarchy is overseas and has greater access to political
protection," Brodsky said.
According to court records, Simchuk and five other Eastern European men operated the alleged racket for a
year at Caviar Bar, Stars Lounge, Nowhere Bar, Steel Toast, Tangia Club and Club Moreno.
Today, Caviar, Stars and Tangia are not open for business. Steele Toast plans to reopen as an actual
nightclub, Havana Nights, this weekend. Club Moreno is a scooter shop.
As for Nowhere Bar, it is still operating. General manager Vladislav Salaridze said his business never
conducted illegal activity.
"No, no, no, we are a legitimate business. We do bar mitzvahs, weddings, parties for celebrities and
comedy shows," he said. "But we always were getting mixed up with Caviar (Bar) because we both have
Russian owners."
According to court records, Simchuk and the others leased the private clubs, obtained credit-card
merchant accounts, flew in B-Girls from Eastern Europe or the Baltic States with 90-day visas, rented
apartments for them, and sent them out to hotels like the Delano, Clevelander and others to seduce male
visitors into coming to their private clubs.
An FBI agent who led the investigation said they went "hunting" in pairs, worked between 10 p.m. and 5
a.m., lured "wealthy males" back to the clubs and ordered multiple bottles of booze without telling the
victims the price.
"The clubs are not open to the public, and operate solely as a front for fraud," FBI agent Alexander V.
Tiguy wrote in an April affidavit.
The goal was to jack up the bills, and squeeze the customers to sign off on their credit card slips - no
easy task.
"Some victims are so intoxicated by the drinks forced upon them by the B-Girls that they cannot stand and
are not competent enough to sign credit card receipts," Tiguy wrote in the affidavit. "Those victims are
propped up by the B-Girls long enough to obtain signatures."
In most instances, the bartender or manager explained to the victims that they agreed to purchase the
alcohol, that the bar had surveillance video of them, and demanded that they pay or the police would be
called to arrest them.
On several occasions, the bouncer or Miami Beach police officers would inform the victim about the
state's Innkeeper Law, which requires patrons disputing a charge to challenge the bill with their credit
card company - or risk getting arrested.
At several of the clubs, an undercover Miami Beach police officer was working as the bouncer to obtain
evidence for the investigation.
Daniels, the magician, said he felt like he had no choice but to pay his bill after he called police and
club Tangia's bouncer told him he would be going to jail. The bouncer was an undercover cop, but he did
not know that at the time.
"They had my driver's license and credit card," recalled Daniels, 50, who turned to the FBI. "I couldn't
do anything."
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