by Thomas Craig
“You all are a very patient team. You must be wondering why we are here instead of the US Embassy where our FBI legat and the DEA office are located,” Agent Redford commented as she sat down at the oval table, inviting others.
“This is one of three locations outside the Embassy that FBI, CIA, and DEA come to chat and share information. I’d like to say we are one hundred percent transparent with information, but that is not the case.” Agent Redford shared.
“Why not? We are all on the same team.” Lauren said.
“True, but I was brought in quickly and it was obvious after a few weeks that some topics are not being discussed around me. So, I have done some digging,” she explained. “These boys down here play poker like pros. They don’t show their cards until you have shown yours, and even then, they likely have a few up their sleeves. I’m the only female agent stationed in Colombia across all agencies, not including the two female Marines at the embassy, so I have to be better than them at everything, or I get nothing done.”
Arya shook her head as she listened. “You sound like you are on an island here. What keeps you going?”
“I like that this challenge has layers to it. I also remind myself daily, ‘do some good today’. Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity.” She stated.
Holliday in return snapped off the USMS motto, “Justice, Integrity, Service.”
Agent Redford smiled at Holliday and the rest of us, as she knew we were good people with the same cause. She knew Arya was not capable of having a bad bone in her body and would only surround herself with like-minded good people. She continued.
“With help from the CIA, I have been deep in the DEA NARCO files in Colombia for the last two months. There is so much information gathered on the trafficking routes and techniques. The bribes and the routes change often and are very sophisticated. The Drug Enforcement Agency, National Police, and Army in Colombia see the Cartels and their routes as a long-standing plague.” She was standing next to a map with red lines all over it indicting former and current smuggling routes.
“However, my new friend in the CIA and I have spent countless hours running the data against high-value targets, terrorist organizations, federal and national watch list databases to see if any patterns or leads emerge to indicate if really bad people were trying to sneak into the United States of America.” Agent Redford picked up some folders and placed them in the center of the table for us to take and review. She continued.
“Having only been here for a few months now, I can see how the collaborative work is done abroad by the FBI, DEA, and CIA. We all build and maintain partnerships with agencies like; Interpol, Europol, UK’s MI6 and GCHQ, Israel’s Mossad, India’s NSA and Intelligence Bureau, other foreign governments, and the local law enforcement agencies to produce and share valuable intel. That intel has led to arrests of wartime criminals, cartel members, terrorists, extremists, and many others. We do good work,” she pointed out, then stood and went to the coastal maps behind me.
“As you know, off the coast of Colombia, in conjunction with the US Navy, Colombian Navy, and a small Panamanian maritime force, the DEA frequently organizes Cocaine and Marijuana seizures from various boat types, ships, and even two-man and unmanned submarines. The trafficking seems endless and it is frustrating.” She shook her head.
“Some people in law enforcement or even the Colombian Armed Forces crack and see it being pointless. They start not caring, or look the other way to stay out of the way of danger. Soon, someone approaches them and makes an offer too good to be true. Corruption squeezes in. Even worse, situations, where a once dedicated person is approached by a random cartel member with pictures of their spouse or family and, threatens to kill them if they don’t play ball. Corruption forces its way in.” She shakes her head again to clear the thought, then turns to Arya.
“It is rumored that one man, in particular, has kept meticulous records of the Cartel influencers, people on the payroll, people on the death-roll, product movement, losses, routes being watched, successful shipment deliveries, as well as quantity and content of the deliveries.” Agent Redford paused while tapping her finger on Santa Marta on the map.
“We have only picked up chatter from informants and wiretaps. No photos or witnesses’ yet but he is believed to be unique as he is a high-ranking member of the Ibagué Cartel and somewhat of a broker of sorts. You believe this may be your Tazario Zapata?” Agent Redford asked.
Lauren chimed in. “Yes, that’s right. We’ve discovered he has a pretty elaborate online pyramid that extends from Santa Marta to much of the US East Coast. He’s tapped into the Latin Lords Crew, or LLC, a gang that extends across several states to help distribute the cocaine and manage human trafficking.”
Lauren gave more details on the Santiago cargo ship from Santa Marta and the human trafficking along with the corruption in law enforcement.
“Do you think you can assist us with locating Tazario and figuring out if we have a corrupt CIA or DEA agent here?” I asked.
Before Agent Redford answered, we could hear a conversation start to escalate outside the conference room.
Agent Redford answered me over her shoulder as she approached the door. “Yes, to locating Tazario. That is why you are here. On the other topic, leave it with me for now.”
She opened the door and was instantly greeted by a man in a hurry to enter. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and fresh out of the jungle wearing dirty khakis, a shirt with sweat stains still attempting to dry, spotting beard, messy curly hair with sunglasses pushed up into it. He was addressing agent Redford as he entered, but his eyes were scanning us and the room.
“Why did I just find out a few hours ago that a team is here to poke around in our business?” he asked as he locked on to Holliday refusing to look away.
“Agent Abbasi, I assure you the notice I received two days ago is likely sitting on your desk or in your email inbox. But from the looks of it, you were in the field. I even left you a voice message, slightly encrypted in words used, but simple enough for you to know we have friendly visitors,” Agent Redford firmly stated. “Team, this is our lead Colombian CIA agent Marco Abbasi.”
It took a few minutes, but after introductions, and a brief overview given by agent Redford describing our pursuit for Tazario, Agent Abbasi settled down. Redford did not mention anything about corruption. We took her lead on that and stuck to the Cartel business.
“Look, had I not been in the jungle recording FARC activity, I would have brought DEA agent Enrique Salazar with me. I have a ton of intel to share with you at the Embassy and most of it comes from Salazar and his team. They do good work rolling up their sleeves and getting out there, boots on the ground with National Polícia and Army Special Forces,” Agent Abbasi explained.
“Marco, why don’t you claim a well-deserved post jungle shower and meal and meet us at the Embassy in 2 hours?” Agent Redford asked as she noticed the room was being consumed by his days in the jungle.
“Fair enough. See you there and then a proper dinner after?” he asked with curiosity and some hint of hopefulness. Fresh out of the jungle and not having seen or met any new faces from the US for months, he was now warming up to the idea of having visitors.
A noncommittal Agent Redford answered for the group, “We’ll see, possibly,” as she threw a quick smirk to Arya that I barely noticed.
Marco left the room as quickly as he entered it. He looked like a man on a mission. No formalities of a goodbye or a look back.
Agent Redford closed the door and turned to address the team again.
“I would be surprised and disappointed if either Agent Abbasi or Salazar were our bad apples. Although they don’t share everything, they do seem dedicated to the work,” Agent Redford added as she returned to the maps of the coast.
“Let me orientate you on the countryside we are going into tomorrow,” Agent Redford announced.
Much of the information was already covered in the readiness reports we read coming in on the flig
ht. Terrain, guerrilla hot spots, cartel hot spots, gang hotspots, the list went on. Parts of Colombia read like an active warzone but thankfully our current location did not look like one when we road through part of the city to the National Police station.
We did not venture out far from the airport, as both the National Police station and US Embassy were only 10 minutes from each other and about 15 minutes from the Airport. We wrapped up our orientation here and were on our way.
◆◆◆
“There are so many flower vendors. Oh, look at the variety of colors in the park too. It’s so beautiful,” Lauren pointed out as we passed Simon Bolivar Central Park which was only a few blocks away from our destination, the US Embassy.
“Yes, the savannah around the outskirt of Bogota has the most consistent temperatures and great soil for farms that yield the finest roses, carnations, and Chrysanthemums,” Agent Redford shared with Lauren and the rest of us in the van.
“Colombia exports over a billion dollars’ worth of flowers annually. This area has a higher per capita of vendors due to the airport, hotels, and University in the area,” Agent Redford added.
The Embassy was a regular looking two-story building behind a ten-foot wall across from the park and the National University of Colombia. It was different from what I expected. I thought it would be a large stone structure in the heart of Bogota, built 100 years ago, in a cramped section of the city with other similar buildings. But here we were at what felt like a compound with plenty of acreages, in what seemed like a well-kept part of the city.
Before we turned left into the US Embassy gates, Agent Redford pointed out that to the right was the Wyndham Hotel where we would be staying the night.
DEA agent Enrique ‘Eric’ Salazar and CIA agent Marco Abbasi stood shoulder to shoulder having what looked to be a casual conversation while waiting for us to clear the desk requiring our fingerprints and credentials.
A few minutes later, we all settled into the conference room and began reviewing the logistics. Agent Redford seemed comfortable enough around the DEA and CIA agents to lead the conversation on our behalf. Andy seemed to be working on Agent Redford and placed himself against her right knee for attention as she stood by a map walking us through what to expect tomorrow. They moved fast around here.
I was helping myself to a cup of coffee when DEA agent Salazar was asked to share what a flight plan for the team could look like.
“The Commander of the Counter-Terrorism Special Forces Group owes me a few favors. Let me make a few calls this evening to create a good reason a couple of Blackhawks and a handful of Special Force Commandos can take us to Santa Marta,” DEA Salazar touted.
“You can just whip us up a couple of Blackhawks and Colombian Special Forces in one night?” I enquired as I placed a generous amount of sugar and cream into my coffee. Salazar looked at my coffee as if I just ruined it.
“Our team of DEA agents here in Bogota, Cartagena, Barranquilla, and Santa Marta have been spot on with leads for the AFEUR, that’s short for their Army Special Forces unit of commandos,” he added.
“The Colombian government has been fighting multiple enemies. A handful of well-organized cartels like Medellín, Cali, Ibagué, and others. As well as Communist Armies like Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia or Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia (FARC) and the National Liberation Army or Ejército de Liberación Nacional (ELN).”
“We have hit a few small rogue FARC outfits that broke away from the seize fire peace agreements with the government. We have also been in a few major flare-ups with the left-wing ELN. Not to mention a bunch of shipment seizures and the dismantling of rebel and cartel routes over the past few months. The commander has received many accolades and a few ribbons. I think he will come through for us. Especially if the FBI pays the fuel bill,” Agent Salazar offered as he looked over at Agent Redford with a grin.
“That can be arranged, Frank,” Agent Redford answered.
Chapter 16
Atahsaia
Steam hissed from the glowing red crack in the ground as shadows jumped around filling the unchartered winding dark cavern. It could have been 3,000 feet or 3,000 miles, the distance did not matter to the Atahsaia. It traveled through Uhepono’s underworld with ease and defied all sense of time and distance. It had walked off the pueblo through the desert-like terrain for many miles before disappearing into a crack at the base of Dowa Yalanne plateau, only to emerge from a cave on Kennesaw Mountain Northwest of Atlanta 1,500 miles away a few days later.
Guided by its’ senses, hunger and rage being the main two, it navigated through the outer parts of Atlanta until it found a strong scent that led it to a dwelling that seemed like the spot it desired.
The beast grabbed the door handle and shook it violently for no results. Then it took one step back and lunged forward with a powerful kick that splintered the door frame next to the latch. The beast stepped in and inhaled deeply. Moving through the apartment, it would randomly flick something off a shelf or table onto the floor with a grunt.
Its large hand picked up a picture of Arya and Andy and took a quick glance at it before tossing it aside. Seconds later, it had another picture pulled from a shelf, and this time it took much longer as it glared and wrinkled its nose. The pressure from its thumb and index finger shattered the glass as it shook the picture loose from the frame. With the picture in hand, the beast sat heavily on the couch and then pulled a cushion up and into its face. With a picture and strong scent, it had enough of this place. The couch cushion went sailing across the living room and the beast threw itself towards the door.
Later that day, the Atahsaia found itself in a cave heading down to the underworld. At an uncertain depth close to the cross over between underground and the underworld, it paused to eat the picture of Lusio Abrams.
It took a walk through the underworld thinking of only one thing. Its master Uhepono woke the beast several weeks ago with only one purpose. The beast was not capable of straying from its purpose. It had an all-encompassing desire to eat, an insatiable appetite that would only go away once it consumed what Uhepono sent it after. It had no conscience, only hunger. And the only thing on the menu was Lusio Abrams.
It ascended from the underworld and worked its way up through caverns until it was met by daylight and a chain-link fence. It being a foot taller than the 6-foot fence, it grabbed the nearest fence post and pulled it from the ground like a toothpick from a hot cupcake. Up and over its head the fence post and fence went as it stepped out from the cave entrance into the light.
There was a couple on a blanket, cuddling and kissing 100 yards to its right. Directly in front of the beast with his back to the caves, a tourist fumbling with his phone, trying to get the camera on it to work. The tourist, not realizing what was coming up behind him just simply started to walk away looking at his cell phone camera.
The beast reached where the tourist had been standing and looked at the flat circular stone structure on the ground. The diameter of the ancient circular stone was about 50 feet and it was covered with ancient pictographs made by the Muisca artist over a thousand years ago.
The Atahsaia walked slowly to the center and drew in a long deep breath through its wide nostrils as it lifted its hands to the sky. Then it let out a deafening roar as two helicopters flew over it.
Chapter 17
The Coast
We woke up early the next morning, packed, and headed back to the airfield to see if Blackhawks were procured for us. True to Agent Salazar’s word, two Blackhawks and eight elite army commandos were geared up and waiting for our arrival. Both helicopters were equipped with two exterior fuel tanks which would allow them to travel just over 1,000 miles.
We flew west from Bogota, passing over rolling farmland for the first 10 miles. Then, patches of the forest made of myrtles, brazil-nut, laurels, and rubber trees started to appear as we approached the jungles of the Andes Mountains. It wasn’t until we passed over the town of Facatativa that we had
a great aerial view of the 1,200year-old mystical circular stone formation, Piedras del Tunjo, that we started gathering a bit of altitude to cut through 40 miles of jungle and mountain.
We flew over thick jungle that at times had rouge mahogany, kapok, and wax palm trees that shot up 100 feet or more through the canopy of the forest. It was quite a sight to see these giant trees, and fun for our pilot.
Lauren was getting a little green in the face after 10 minutes of banking left and right. To be honest, I did not know how much longer I could have lasted either. It was as if the pilot was purposely navigating around the rogue trees versus flying above them. DEA Salazar spoke sharply into the headset, and a moment later the helicopter increased altitude, and the pilot leveled off.
About 30 minutes later, we came out of the mountainous jungle of the Eastern Cordillera Oriental range and descended into the Magdalen River Basin. The Magdalen River is one of the longest rivers in Colombia, cutting through rolling valleys, forest, patches of farmland, and splitting the Andes Mountain range into two ranges that shot north. For the next hour and a half, we followed the Magdalena River north toward the coastal city of Cartagena.
One of the Special Forces Commandos leaned forward, lightly brushing Arya’s leg to the side as he reached underneath her seat. We all seemed to avert our attention to this activity. He pulled her Kevlar vest out from under her and handed it to her, insisting she put it on now. He motioned with his hand for all of us to do the same. We were advised moments later that we were entering a part of the valley with a heavy concentration of FARC and ELN fighters.
We had made plans to drop off Special Agent Redford and CIA agent Abbasi in Cartagena. Unbeknownst to DEA agent Salazar, Redford and Abbasi were going to spend time in Cartagena and, if need be, Barranquilla as part of a secret investigation into the DEA and CIA agents stationed there to ensure there were no possible collaborators with the Ibagué Cartel. The rest of us would travel on with the commandos to Santa Marta and hopefully land there just in time to get a late lunch, then review the next stage of the plan.
