In the dead of night, with only flashlights to cut through the darkness, a small fishing boat braved freezing waves off the Venezuelan coast. Onboard was a woman who, for nearly a year, had been hunted by her own government—María Corina Machado, Venezuela’s most prominent opposition leader and the 2025 Nobel Peace Prize laureate. Her extraction from Venezuela, a feat reminiscent of Cold War spy novels, was dubbed Operation Golden Dynamite, and it unfolded with a blend of high-stakes risk, meticulous planning, and a touch of improvisation.
According to BBC and NBC News, the mission was orchestrated by Bryan Stern, a U.S. special forces veteran and founder of the Grey Bull Rescue Foundation. Stern’s organization specializes in daring evacuations from conflict zones, but even he admitted this was their most challenging mission yet. "She is overwhelmingly the highest-profile person we’ve rescued," Stern told NBC News, reflecting on the gravity of the operation.
The backdrop to this dramatic escape was Venezuela’s turbulent political climate. Following the widely disputed 2024 elections, Machado—long a thorn in the side of President Nicolás Maduro’s regime—had gone into hiding in January 2025. The government’s use of facial biometrics and a relentless campaign dubbed the "Hunt for Maria" made her every move perilous. Billboards with her image dotted the country, and according to Stern, the regime’s efforts to track her were as intense as "the Hunt for Bin Laden."
Planning for her extraction began on December 5, 2025. Stern and his team had been quietly building a network across the Caribbean, including inside Venezuela and on the nearby island of Aruba, preparing for just such an eventuality. "We’ve been building infrastructure on the ground in Venezuela designed to get Americans, allies and Brits and other people out should the war in Venezuela start," Stern told BBC. But none of that groundwork, he admitted, was designed for someone as famous as Machado.
The plan that emerged was as audacious as it was risky. Machado was first moved by land from her hiding place to a rendezvous point on the coast. There, she boarded a small skiff that pushed off into the pitch-black Caribbean night. The seas were rough—waves reached up to 10 feet high, and the cold spray soaked everyone onboard. "It was pitch black, almost no moonlight. All of us were very cold and wet," Stern recalled in his interview with NBC News. The journey was supposed to take three or four hours, but a broken engine delayed them, stretching the ordeal to nearly 16 hours.
At sea, Machado transferred from the small skiff to a slightly larger fishing boat where Stern was waiting. The team used the rough conditions and darkness to their advantage, masking their movements from authorities. Throughout, they took elaborate steps to disguise Machado’s appearance and scramble her digital footprint—turning off phones and using deception even with some members of her own team. "The biometric threat is so real," Stern emphasized to BBC, underscoring the regime’s reliance on high-tech surveillance. He would not confirm reports that Machado wore a wig, but made clear her face was a constant problem: "She is the most famous person in Venezuela outside of Maduro."
Despite the harrowing conditions, Machado never wavered. Stern described her as "formidable," noting, "She was soaking wet and freezing cold and didn’t complain once." Her composure earned her the nickname "the Iron Lady," and Stern, a seasoned veteran of high-risk rescues, confessed to being "starstruck."
Once they reached their destination, Machado boarded a plane on the island of Curaçao, about 40 miles north of Venezuela. The operation was so secretive that she never even cleared immigration there, Stern explained. From Curaçao, she flew to Oslo, Norway, arriving just before midnight on December 11, 2025—less than 48 hours before she was to receive her Nobel Peace Prize.
The mission, Stern said, was funded entirely by unnamed donors. "We’ve never had a thank-you note from the US government, let alone a dollar," he told BBC, though he did admit to "informal" coordination with some nation states and intelligence services. The White House did not respond to NBC News’s request for comment about any U.S. involvement, and Stern insisted, "We were not hired by anyone in the U.S. government."
Secrecy was paramount—not only to protect Machado but also the Venezuelans who assisted in her escape. Stern revealed that many of those who helped didn’t even realize the full scope of their involvement. "There are people who did things that were benign from their perspective—but mission-critical from our perspective," he explained. To this day, the identities of those who aided the mission remain closely guarded secrets.
For Machado, the journey was not just a physical escape but a symbolic victory. After nearly a year in hiding, separated from her adult children whom she hadn’t seen in two years, she was able to reunite with them in Oslo. Her arrival was a testament to both her resilience and the determination of those who believe in her cause.
Yet even in the afterglow of her Nobel triumph, questions linger about the future. Machado has publicly stated her intention to return to Venezuela, a prospect that worries Stern. "I told her, 'don’t go back. You’re a Mum. We need you.' She’s going to do what she’s going to do... I understand why she wants to go back because she’s a hero to her people. I wish she wouldn’t go back; I have a feeling she will."
The operation has drawn attention to the lengths opposition figures in Venezuela must go to evade a regime that has grown increasingly sophisticated—and ruthless—in its pursuit of dissent. It also highlights the international network of supporters, from clandestine donors to special forces veterans, that has emerged to aid those fighting for democracy in the country.
Operation Golden Dynamite will likely go down as one of the most daring rescue missions in recent memory—a blend of courage, ingenuity, and, above all, hope. For María Corina Machado, it was the journey of a lifetime, culminating in a moment of global recognition. For Venezuela, it was a reminder that, even in the darkest of nights, there are those willing to risk everything for freedom.
