Task Force Identity

by I A Thompson

  The main house was even bigger than the view from the river indicated. Approaching it from the road revealed two additional buildings connected to the big house via wide covered porches.

  A walkthrough of the outbuildings revealed that they had been significantly modernized since their initial use. Centered around the massive fireplace in the former kitchen were now small administrative offices and a gift store for visitors. Most of the group immediately focused on knickknacks they could take home as mementos of their visit. Regina, Zach and Hardy, on the other hand, took mental notes of everything they saw and took pictures unobtrusively.

  The group moved on to the second building which had been transformed into a daycare for the younger kids of the plantation workers. It was one big room, again with a big fireplace as the focal point, and sitting there, with a book in hand, reading to twenty-three children, was Emilia Amante. Dressed in linen pants and cotton blouse, she looked like a slightly overdressed teacher, but not at all like the lady of the house.

  30

  Anouska’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her and for a moment, she forgot what she wanted to say next. Then she recovered and turned to her group while moving her hand in an elegantly flowing gesture towards Emilia. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to introduce you to Mrs. Emilia Amante. Her husband’s family has owned Anholts plantation since it was first built, and Miss Emilia here is one of our most treasured ambassadors of the estate. Another one of her passions, as you can see, is the education of our next generation.” She turned to Emilia. “Ma’am, would you like to say a few words to our guests?”

  Emilia put a bookmark in her book, closed it and laid it on a table next to her. Then she got up and smiled at the tourists. “We are very happy to welcome you to our home. I know you have been in the best of hands with Anouska. I hope you enjoyed the tour of the plantation so far and will continue to do so. If you have any questions for me, I’ll be happy to answer them, just as soon as the kids go on recess.” She raised her hands. “Go on kids. Fifteen-minute break.” The children jumped up and ran outside, all giggles and high-pitched voices. For a few minutes, Emilia answered questions about life on a plantation, social responsibility, pros and cons of living in a remote area, healthcare, politics and economy.

  Regina finally saw an opportunity to throw in a question. “Mrs. Amante, I read that Suriname has a literacy rate of 95% for women and 96% for men. From your perspective, what do you think could be done to increase this rate? And what, if any, is your interaction with organizations such as UNICEF, which I work for at home?” She knew she had struck a nerve when Emilia’s smile froze for a split second and Anouska gasped.

  Then the gracious smile returned, and Emilia answered, “Of course, we could always use more resources, especially in the rural areas of the country. It will probably take another generation until literacy rates climb another percent or so. Our future is definitely in these children and as you can see, we all do our part to give them the best possible start in life. Our country is getting increasingly well connected which improves access to information for all ages.”

  Anouska relaxed visibly and ushered the group on to the main house, while Emilia stayed behind with her students. The stately rooms had ornate wood paneling and high ceilings. The furniture had clearly been updated over the years, but someone with excellent taste had made sure that the understated elegance and comfort of the rooms were preserved. It was also evident that this was a home, not a museum. A coaster sitting on a couch table, a section of the local newspaper laying open on a couch; random signs of a family that didn’t mind letting visitors into their life. At the same time, it was eerily quiet, except for the hum of ceiling fans and the central air conditioning unit, there was no sound other than the noises coming from the group of tourists.

  Anouska stopped in front of a portrait in the library. A big sign to the left of the picture indicated that taking photos was forbidden in this room. The portrait was of a man dressed in 17th Century clothing with a white powdered wig, sitting stiffly on a chair surrounded by books from floor to ceiling. It was his face that made Regina and Zach exchange a surprised look. The face looked almost exactly like Dominic Amante. “Let me introduce you to Wolter Amante, the founder of Anholts plantation. He was part of the Dutch invaders, led by Abraham Crijnssen, who attacked the British Fort Willoughby on 26 February 1667. The following day, the fort was captured and renamed Fort Zeelandia. On 31 July 1667, the English and Dutch signed the Treaty of Breda, which stated that the Dutch could keep Suriname and the British would keep a former Dutch colony called New Amsterdam, now known as New York.”

  The room surrounding the portrait still looked almost identical to the way it was painted in the picture, creating an interesting effect. The only difference was that where there once were mainly books in the shelves, there was now a mix of books and antique artifacts, mostly of South American origin, all of them museum quality and priceless.

  Zach was itching to capture the treasures on display. He stepped back behind Hardy, pulled out his phone, set the camera setting to video and pressed the record button. Then he put the phone back into his back pocket making sure the camera was not obstructed, before he walked around the room, studying the various displays while filming the opposite side of the room. Anouska looked at him with a frown but didn’t say anything. After he had completed a 360-degree sweep of the room, he stepped back behind Hardy again and turned the recorder off. It was the best he could do, and he hoped it was enough.

  They continued through the lavish dining room, a drawing room and concluded with a tour of the wrap-around porch that provided stunning opportunities for taking pictures. When the group finally got back to the bus, Emilia had assembled the children she had read to earlier in a circle. When they saw the visitors, they broke into a folk song, happy to have an audience.

  Regina saw that Anouska frowned again, especially when Emilia proceeded to shake everyone’s hand as they climbed back into the bus. Apparently, that was not a standard part of the program. Regina had to admit it was a little kitschy, but at the same time very sweet and innocent. Then it was her turn to shake Emilia’s hand. She looked into the eyes of the woman she had studied as part of her research, trying to figure out what she was thinking. Nothing, just a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Regina was just about to release Emilia’s hand when Emilia put her left hand around both of their hands and said, “Thank you for everything you and your organization do for the children of this world.” A genuine and warm comment, completely innocent had it not been for the folded piece of paper Regina felt between their hands.

  She smiled back and replied, “No, we have to thank you for the hard work you are doing here on the ground. It’s engaged people like you who make the biggest difference.” The two women let go of each other and Regina got on the bus. She walked to the back where Hardy and Zach were waiting for her, sat down and looked out the window at Emilia who was looking at her.

  “What was that all about?” Zach asked.

  “Don’t know,” Regina murmured. “I think she was trying to tell me something.”

  The bus started moving and quickly the house and the woman watching the bus drive off, became smaller and smaller until they disappeared in the dust.

  Regina was dying to find out what Emilia had written, but didn’t want to risk getting caught like a naughty schoolgirl, though she had no reason to worry, Anouska was once again in her entertainment role at the front of the bus, quizzing her now tired audience on what they had learned on their tour.

  Finally, Regina felt safe enough to peek at the small, handwritten note.

  “To Whom It May Concern, the women and children of Anholts Plantation need help. We have no freedom; we are not safe, and our every move is controlled. There are bad people here and bad things are happening. People disappear. We are scared. I am risking my life writing this, but better dead than a prisoner for the rest of my life. Sincerely, Emilia Mond
ello Amante.”

  Regina folded the note and put it in the back pocket of her jeans. Her thoughts were racing. She had to admit she had underestimated Emilia and shouldn’t have judged the book by its cover. Emilia may have played and continued to play the role of the socialite to keep herself and the people she cared about safe, but she was in no way blind to what was going on around her and had just waited for an opportunity to act.

  31

  After returning to the lodge and eating a light dinner with the other guests, Regina and Zach quickly retreated to their cabin, where Hardy joined them shortly thereafter. Regina showed the guys the note from Emilia and they spent the rest of the evening plotting their approach to staking out the plantation the following day. Their goal, they agreed, would be to photograph and document anything out of the ordinary.

  Hardy recommended approaching from the river via boat, just south of the plantation and fan out from there. Regina was tasked to watch the buildings around the main house, likely the least dangerous assignment. Hardy would tackle the warehouses and Zach the railroad and shipping area.

  As much as Regina disliked hunting, she had to admit, had it not been for that experience, she would have been woefully unprepared for what the day held in store for her. She was hot, sweaty and thoroughly uncomfortable in her camouflage outfit, but it kept the bugs and other critters around her away. She had found a hiding spot behind some fallen trees that allowed her to sit and lean against a tree trunk instead of having to lay on the ground, giving her an unobstructed view of the administrative building and the school, with the big house in the background. Four hours into her watch, all was quiet on her end. Zach and Hardy had assumed their positions, but neither one had anything to report.

  She was starting to get hungry and was contemplating whether she should eat one of the protein bars she had brought with her or if she should wait another hour when out of nowhere, she started hearing a rattling noise that quickly got louder. It came from her left, behind her. She pressed herself closer to the tree trunk, blending in with her surrounding as the noise became all-encompassing, and then she saw it above her, a big grey helicopter with white markings SAF-H003.

  Thirty seconds later, the helicopter descended and landed almost exactly where their bus had parked the day before. The rotors came to a halt and two men, who could not have been any more different from each other, exited. One was tall, dark-skinned, and wearing a dress uniform with epaulettes. The other one was short, blonde and heavyset. Regina set her phone to full zoom and snapped a set of pictures as the men walked over to the administrative building.

  Then she tapped her microphone. “Guys, not sure if you can see it from where you are. A helo marked sierra, alpha, foxtrot, dash, hotel, zero, zero, three just flew in and dropped off two guys. I took pictures, but have no signal, so I can’t send them to you.”

  Her earpiece crackled and she heard Hardy’s voice. “I saw the helicopter. It’s Suriname Air Force. Can you describe the men?”

  Regina gave a quick description, stated that they both went into the admin building and that there had been no other activity since then.

  Her earpiece crackled again, this time it was Zach. “Something is happening over here too. I can hear a train in the distance and a jeep just pulled up. A ragtag posse of wanna-be guerillas. Sending pictures.”

  Regina didn’t bother checking her phone, knowing that it would be a lost cause for now.

  “I’ll be damned!” she heard Hardy’s voice. “Those are anything but wanna-be. The guy in the back seat on the left is Alonzo Batista. He’s a former FARC leader who split off from the group when they signed the most recent peace deal.”

  “Are you sure?” Zach asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Hardy sounded impatient. “I’m looking at the picture. That white hair and mustache, and the scar across his left cheek, there’s not a shadow of a doubt.”

  Regina watched the door to the administrative building open. The helicopter’s passengers emerged, followed by Dominic Amante and two burly bodyguards carrying assault rifles; she snapped a few more pictures. A white Cadillac Escalade drove up from the side of the building that had been hidden from Regina’s view; more pictures. The men got in and the big car drove off in the direction of the warehouses.

  She tapped her mic again. “Hardy, a minimum of six guys are coming your way. At least two armed with assault rifles. The military guy, blondie and Amante are among them.”

  “I see the car. Zach, anything new on your end?”

  “A diesel engine pulling two flat cars with RDFL shipping containers just rolled in. They’re shunting the containers to a side track at the moment.”

  Regina no longer had a visual on the car or any other activities. Unless she was going to move from her position, she’d have to settle for listening to the guys’ reports of what was happening on their end. A part of her desperately wanted to see the action for herself, but the reasonable, grounded part of her brain prevailed. She knew too little of the dangers she’d be facing if she moved from her current position. This wasn’t the time for crazy moves. She sat back, stretched her legs and tried to ease the tension in her neck and shoulders.

  She heard Hardy’s voice again. “They got out of the car. The military guy is Colonel Ronaldo Duerte, he is a close confidante of President Janssen, and the blond guy is Silas Redmond, our old friend from RDFL. They’re walking into the warehouse next to the one we visited yesterday.” He was quiet for a few minutes, then continued, “One of the workers opened up a box of bananas. Blue Switie, based on the color of the box. How about that? Beneath the bananas are four bricks. My guess would be cocaine.”

  “Can you see any fully stacked pallets?” Regina asked. “How many boxes are on each pallet?”

  Silence, then Hardy replied, “Looks like 54. Or 220 kilos of cocaine.”

  “Guys!” Zach interrupted. “Remember the five refrigerated containers from yesterday? They’ve been brought over here and are being loaded. The first one just completed and if my count is correct, we’re looking at 20 pallets per container, or 4.4 tons of cocaine.”

  “We have to get back to Paramaribo and find out where these drugs are being shipped to. Worst case we’re looking at 22 tons of drugs at once hitting the market,” Regina added.

  Hardy chimed in. “Zach, Amante and his guests are headed your way. You should see their car momentarily.”

  “10-4. I see them. They’re headed to the containers on the side track. The FARC guy and his entourage are going over there as well.”

  “Walk us through what you’re seeing.” Regina felt a knot in her stomach, usually a sign that something bad was about to happen.

  Zach’s voice crackled in her ear. “Not much to see. Amante instructed his guys to unload the containers. There are four forklifts buzzing back and forth, unloading pallets with wooden crates. Everybody else is standing back, waiting and making small talk.” He paused and a minute later continued, “Redmond is talking to the FARC guy who is now opening one of the boxes from the first container. One of his buddies is opening one from the second container.” Another pause, then an exasperated, “No fucking way!”

  “What is it?” Regina whispered; Zach didn’t answer.

  “You okay, man?” Hardy asked; No answer.

  After what seemed an eternity, Zach finally spoke again, “Guys, I’m looking at roughly a hundred crates full of Chinese QBZ-97 assault rifles. I’d say anywhere from six to ten per crate; add to that another fifty crates with Chinese RPG 69s, probably about four per crate.” He let the words sink in. Then he continued, “Hardy, I think you and I should pull back right about now. I have no idea how the FARC guys are planning on moving these weapons, but if they are as stealthy as I think they are, we should be out of here before we get caught by lookouts.”

  “Couldn’t agree more. See you all at the boat in an hour,” Hardy answered.

  “We’ll be there.” Regina was closest to the boat and the furthest away from the action, so
she decided to stay put for a little while to see if anything else was going to happen.

  She was about ready to throw in the towel when the Escalade reappeared. It parked in the same spot it had picked up Amante, Duerte and Redmond earlier. The same five guys she had watched drive off got out of the car, followed by a man with white hair, mustache and a noticeable scar, Batista.

  The armed bodyguards watched the four men climb aboard the helicopter then stepped back when the rotors started to turn. A moment later, the helo lifted off and flew once again over Regina, way too close for her comfort.

  She took a deep breath, got up from her hiding spot and carefully made her way back to the boat. While she waited for Zach and Hardy, she tried to organize her thoughts around what they had just learned.

  32

  Hardy was able to secure a ride to Paramaribo for the following morning. Time was of the essence now and they needed to know where the shipment from Anholts plantation was headed.

  Back in the comfort of their Courtyard hotel room and high-speed internet, Regina hacked into the Port of Paramaribo’s logistics system and tried to locate the five shipping containers. Unfortunately, the pictures Zach had taken were too blurry to show all the details of their identification markings and Regina’s search came up with hundreds of possible hits, even among the limited number of ships heading for Dutch, Belgian and French ports.

  Regina looked at Hardy. “Can you go to the port and walk around without raising suspicion?”

  He nodded. “Yes, sure. I’m there almost daily; Comes with the territory. Nobody pays attention to me anymore; they just assume I’m chasing another ghost.”

  “Good. Because you’ll have to try and find the proverbial needle in the haystack. I need clearer pictures of those identifiers. I doubt you’ll find them all neatly side by side on their flat cars, but with a little luck, they’re still being processed and haven’t been loaded onto their ship yet.”