by T L Yeager
It rang as a cobbled-together language when spoken. A jarring, awkward jumble of words that seemed pieced together by a language major to show off.
Maddie knew three sayings. Bon bini! Con ta bai? Don, danki. This meant, welcome. How are you doing? Fine, thanks.
The sounds making their way through the door materialized into words that Maddie recognized. With the greeting over, they had switched back to English. The unfamiliar voice asked about a white truck. His tone had grown more heavy.
“Yes, my truck is white,” Geert’s voice replied.
“Where is the American?”
A pause.
“The one you picked up from the airport yesterday,” the man continued.
“Oranjestad... At least that’s where I left them.” Geert hadn’t had time to formulate a story. Even from her side of the door, Maddie could sense the lie in Geert’s answer. “I dropped them off there. She was going to get a hotel room.”
More silence.
“Which hotel?”
“The Renaissance. That’s where I dropped them off,” Geert lied. “I don’t know if that’s where they stayed.”
Kavita’s voice came next. The sound arrived at Maddie’s ear as a continual stream of words, none of which she could understand. Kavita switched back to Papiamento. Maddie could almost see her hands flailing about as she hammered the man with what could only be described as a mother’s diatribe.
The onslaught ended abruptly. Then, after just a second or two of silence, there was another shot of words from Kavita that ended as a question. At least it sounded like a question. The end of the sentence was turned up on the ends.
The man’s response was soft and hard to hear. Maddie could only make out every few words.
“Yes... Husband… Surfside.” Then his volume increased again. “I work for the United States. The Consulate General sent me. She understands the stress of the situation and wants to help. Madeline left her passport and her daughters as well. The authorities will come looking for them eventually, and the Consulate wants to help. Please pass this information along. If you see them…”
49
Surfside Resort, Aruba
Anas had lost track of time. Earlier in the evening he went to the lobby to confirm it was night. When he came back he turned off the bright fluorescent fixture leaving just the glow of the monitors to light his windowless office. He’d been stuck in the technology suite since they arrived. Somehow, he imagined it differently. He imagined the pool and the sand—the pale blue and green of the Caribbean Sea. The exotic backdrop for the operation seemed more appealing in the planning.
He should have known better than to forge expectations. Reality had always been far crueler than the fantasy he saw through the rose-colored glasses of his mind. But what made things all the worse was the incessant harping of the voice in his head. You should have known better. How could you not see this coming? Will you ever learn? It scolded him like a belligerent mother.
For the last hour, he’d been stewing in his own head. Anxiety built in his stomach as he imagined being marked by the killing—his brother’s butchery. The world would not easily forgive a person who took part in the killing of innocence.
Haunting images of his sister had also returned. The gaping wound at her neck, deep enough that the cord of her spine was visible when Anas walked up. Her head was nearly severed in the attack.
His sister, Isabelle, was one of seven killed in the melee. A leftwing radical had walked into the school with just one objective. He’d taken the lives of six young children and one teacher who attempted to subdue him. Countless others suffered ruthless cuts from the machete he wielded. Shot and killed by police as he tried to escape, his motive remained unclear.
Anas attended the same primary school. In the chaos that followed, he snuck from his classroom and ran down the hall to check on his sister. He found her in the hallway with two of her friends, slipping in the blood as he reached in toward her open eyes.
Isabelle’s class was on their way in from recess when the man encountered them. Her neck was laid wide by the blade; blood spanned the full width of the hall.
He stared at the door for several minutes waiting for the haunting to subside before he opened it. It was wrong in so many ways, but Ross and Isabelle were his only escape.
“Are you awake?” he whispered.
The business office where Ross and Isabelle were kept was mostly dark. A lamp burned in one of the three cubicles, its beam carried up to the ceiling in a square. Enough was cast back down that Anas could see Ross and Isabelle lying side by side on the thin sofa bed mattress.
Ross pushed himself up to his elbows. “Yeah,” he replied quietly. He turned to his side and gently rolled from beneath the sheet.
“Is everything okay?” he asked as he stood.
“Yes. I’m sorry to disturb you. I just… I thought you might want to talk if you were awake.”
“I don’t see why not. Can we talk in there?” Ross was looking in toward the computers.
Anas turned and went in, standing on the edge of the mattress to make room for Ross.
“What’s up?” Ross asked. He rubbed his eyes, although it seemed improvised. They weren’t marked with sleep.
“I’m sorry for what we’ve put you through. I don’t have children of my own, but I had a sister… long ago now. Her name was also Isabelle. She was killed by a madman when she was only seven.”
Ross’s eyes widened. He rubbed at the wrinkles on his forehead. “Isabelle?” he asked.
“Yes. Same as your daughter. In fact, your Izzy, as you call her, reminds me quite a lot of my sister. She was a good girl. A good friend.” Anas stared at the floor, blurred images ghosting his mind.
“Oh shit,” Ross said. He covered his mouth and turned his head, the beard moving across his palm like sandpaper. The pieces were falling into place. Anas had been kind for a reason, and now Ross was piecing it together. “That’s terrible. I’m sorry for your loss, Anas.”
Anas bobbed his head in thanks. “It was a different experience from yours, but having children of your own in harm’s way must be a terrible thing. Before this all started, it was easy to ignore the fact that real people would be here when we arrived. Your daughter has given a face to all the people stuck in these buildings.”
“I get it, man.” Ross lifted his arm as if he was about to pat Anas on the shoulder. It stopped after just a twitch and feel back to his side. “This thing became very serious, very quickly. I get that. Just don’t let it end that way. You have to own it from here on out. My only request is that you help us, Anas. You yourself have said your intentions were… are honorable. And I believe you. There’s good inside of you.” He pointed. “What scares me… is the others. I’m asking you, to please, do what you can to keep us safe.”
The lie he held felt like lead. Ross and Isabelle were scheduled to die in less than twenty-four hours—a sentence for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“I’ll do my best.” Deep within, Anas knew this was true. He’d come too far to have a part in their sacrifice.
“Thank you. I know you will. You have a good heart, Anas. In fact, before you came in I was thinking about that. You’ve worked yourself into a tough spot. Your intentions were good. Things sound like they got out of control and went the wrong direction.”
“This has been the case more than once,” Anas added.
“Right. But only you can break the pattern. No one is going to come in and tell your brother to shape up. You have to do it. You can’t let people fool you. Let them manipulate you. Let them take advantage of your compassion. You need to have some ruthlessness of your own. It was your vision. Your plan. Your innovation…”
Anas could feel his heart rate quicken at the encouragement. He bowed his head in agreement. Ross was right. He sat by and watched the plan fall apart. But for all the certainty he felt in Ross’s words, he knew the opposition would be swift and strong. Any disagreement and his brother w
ould take the opportunity to grind the ax further.
“I don’t doubt your words. My worry is turning them into action. As I’ve considered the position I’ve created for myself, I realize I’ll own this for the rest of my life. Every life turned into a body… I’ll own each one. Even though my intentions were different.”
Ross considered the words. He turned his attention to the computer screen briefly than back to Anas.
“You know your situation reminds me of the WikiLeaks guy… What’s his name?”
“Julian Assange?” Anas answered.
“Yeah, him. Here’s a guy that starts WikiLeaks for all the right reasons—sharing damaging information that’s hidden behind a veil of secrecy. To some, he’s a crusader. To others he’s a terrorist. I think the vice president actually called him that. Some would see you as a crusader. Whether people agree or not… Some will, some won’t, but you have a cause you’re trying to forward. And you wanted to do it peacefully. That’s the difference. But just like the Julian guy, the situation gets skewed and next thing you know you’re in a corner. He bugged out and was granted asylum. I mean, he’s stuck living in an embassy or something and can’t leave for fear of being arrested, but he’s still an international figure forwarding his cause.”
Anas was stunned by the comparison. Assange was something of a hero within the hacker community. To be compared to him wasn’t something he’d ever considered, but Ross’s connection made sense.
“You could do the same, Anas. If you could get out of here and spare as many as possible. Then, instead of hiding the rest of your life, you could seek asylum. Tell your story. Further your cause. Remain an international figure.”
Emotion swarmed Anas. He simply nodded in agreement. This stranger had renewed his courage.
“But you, have to get your men out of here before they kill more people. Then turn this around and be the crusader you’re capable of being.”
50
Dutch Marine Base, Aruba
Maddie hadn’t slept. Her husband and daughter were scheduled to die today. She was running on waves of pure adrenaline.
Before they left for the base, Maddie checked online to get a status on the ransoms. All had paid, except the US and England. She’d put the plan in motion.
Charlotte was asleep in the crib in Geert and Kavita’s living room. Maddie stood above her, watching her chest rise and fall, her face twitch with dreams. She was beautiful. She’d be alright.
She kissed her hand, planted it on Charlotte’s cheek, and left.
Satellite images showed Camp Savaneta as a perfect square. Just five hundred yards by five hundred yards, it was far smaller than Maddie had imagined. The oceanfront box was divided roughly into four quadrants with just a smattering of buildings, maybe ten in all.
The inland east quadrant contained an obstacle course and ground left open for training. Barracks for the enlisted soldiers, a parade grounds and a helicopter pad took up most of the inland west quadrant.
Along the shore of the oceanfront east quadrant stood the Commandant’s residence. Beside it sat a single-story structure shaped like a Z where the rest of the officers were housed, according to Geert. Two other buildings set back from the water contained offices and were multiple stories high so the officers could maintain a view of the ocean.
The quadrant opposite contained the largest building as far as area under roof. De Grote Zaal was the hub of the base. Fronted by a circle and dual flag poles, the main hall contained the mess deck, the armory and an auditorium.
Getting through the gate had gone smoother then she’d expected. PTang had filed a work order for an electrical problem in the auditorium. When they pulled up, they were greeted by a militia soldier that Geert knew by name. Geert leaned out the window and yelled, asking how his mother was doing. A smile and a thumbs up were flashed in response.
Geert produced a sheet of paper with the work order number hand written on the front. The younger guard took it and handed it through the window to the more senior man. The senior man shot a glance at the paper then looked at Geert and flashed an index finger as if to say, it’ll be just a minute.
It took less. Maybe thirty seconds on the computer were all that was needed. Geert rolled up so that they were level with the senior man.
“You’ve got a helper these days, Geert,” the guard said, looking in to check out Madeline.
“Relative in for a time. Deciding if she wants to stay a while.”
The guard nodded a hello to Madeline who returned the gesture.
“Appreciate it, Nelson,” Geert said.
“Good to get it fixed before the Marines come back this morning. I’m sure they’ll need the auditorium. They’d be upset if the lights weren’t working.” Nelson waved. “Let us know if you need anything.”
Geert returned the wave and crept forward through the opening gate.
“This morning?” Maddie said, reiterating what the guard had said.
“Humm?” Geert hadn’t picked it up.
“Your boy Nelson… He said the Marines were coming back this morning. We should’ve asked when they were due in.” The thought was cut off by a text message chime from Maddie’s phone.
‘I’ve never seen you wear a hat’, it was from PTang. Maddie reached up and adjusted the brim. Geert had given her the Velden Electric hat to make it official. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and run it through the opening in the back.
“Everything okay?” Geert asked, looking down at the phone in Maddie’s hands. Through the night, he’d come to understand that this hacker, a concept Geert was unable to grasp, was key to the plan. Maddie had been texting PTang all night.
“Better than I thought,” Maddie replied. She thumbed up an emoticon wearing a hat and shot it to PTang in reply. “Damn girl is watching us on the security cameras.”
The official red, white and blue stripes of the Kingdom of the Netherlands snapped in the stiff westerly morning wind. It was set a full flag height above its predominantly blue Aruban sister flag.
Architects for De Grote Zaal hadn’t taken much care to incorporate the turquoise-drenched view that stretched to the horizon. The main entrance, with the flags, was at a right angle to the shore. It faced the brick office building across the road. A single row of parking spaces lined each side of the building. The spaces were empty, almost eerily so.
They continued past the entrance and its flags to the far, ocean side of the building.
“Where are the cars?” Maddie asked as they turned right.
Geert explained that when the soldiers leave for training, they park their personal cars together at the parade grounds so that idle vehicles can’t hide among the crowd.
Maddie studied the building, a crude map of its interior resting in her lap. Geert had drawn it in response to Maddie’s fifty questions. It was a center hall structure with the mess deck, a mariner’s term for cafeteria, and armory on the ocean side. The auditorium and magazine filled the other side.
As they drove, Maddie could see the tables and chairs of the cafeteria through the windows. They passed a door and then windowless siding where the armory was located.
Geert’s picture showed that the kitchen shared what must certainly be a reinforced wall with the armory.
Geert turned right again at the back of the building. He pulled up passed the back door and stopped with the tailgate just a few feet from it. The plan called for Geert to kill the circuit breakers to the overhead lights in the auditorium. If someone came looking, the ruse would be their cover.
“You ready?” Maddie asked.
“Ready as ready can be,” Geert replied. “Come get your hostage.”
Maddie popped the door open and rolled from the seat. When she got to Geert’s door she could sense the camera in her peripheral vision. She pulled the revolver from the back of her pants and made a show of flashing it in the clear. Then she opened Geert’s door and motioned him out with the snub-nosed barrel.
Geert did as they’d
rehearsed. Maddie followed him to the back of the truck. Geert stopped at the bed and extracted a bag of tools for himself and handed another to Maddie. With the bags slung over their shoulders, they went inside. Once they were out of the camera’s view, Maddie tucked the revolver back into her waistband and fixed her shirt.
Another text message arrived. PTang was following them across the base. The message read, ‘Picture perfect. Your friend is following orders at gunpoint according to the video.’
Signs over doors to the left and right read, Magazine and Arsenaal, respectively. A red light glowed from the key pads beside the doors. The locks were code and thumbprint enabled. PTang could tell from the audit logs in the application behind the security system.
The lights in the hall lit the path forward. As they passed the doors leading to the objectives, Maddie could see it was dark on the other side of the tempered glass windows.
She followed Geert down the double-wide corridor. Their footsteps angled away in both directions, breaking the silence. Apparently, the kitchen was closed when the troops were away. The few remaining had to fend for breakfast on their own. The quiet confirmed what PTang had told them. She’d been monitoring the security cameras all morning and hadn’t seen anyone coming or going.
“Wait here,” Geert said, as he pressed his way through a door on their left. As it drifted closed, the morning sun from the unshaded windows was enough for Maddie to see the curve of a stage. It had a single step of elevation above the floor. There was a podium in the middle and two white projection screens on the wall that were angled toward one another.
Maddie stayed in the hall. She turned forward and locked her eyes on the front entrance. A few seconds later she pulled out her phone and dialed up PTang.
“You all set?”
“Waiting patiently. Remember, there’s another camera in the room with the guns. Two actually. They’ll both be just overhead when you enter. You’ll have to take a steps, and look and smile.”