Task Force Identity

by I A Thompson

  He paused to let his words sink in and continued, “This will be all. You are free to go and spend the afternoon preparing for your assignments. Please come by my office on your way out to pick up your communications instructions and cyphers. I wish all of you the best of luck. Stay safe!”

  He walked out, leaving the shell-shocked team behind.

  9

  Fifty-six hours later, Delta flight 1236 made its final approach into Pensacola International Airport. Regina was glad she had a window seat on the left side of the plane, giving her an unobstructed view of the land below her. The evening sun cast golden light across the region, and as the plane slowly turned to the right, she got her first glimpse of the gulf and the barrier island.

  Her eyes filled with tears and she quickly blinked them away. How silly to become so emotional, she thought. But she couldn’t help herself; it happened every time she left or returned home. Escambia Bay came into focus, then they were over land, and moments later the wheels of the MD-80 touched the runway. The plane slowed down quickly, while the usual announcements came across the PA system.

  Zach, sitting next to her, put down the book he was reading and turned his phone on. He turned to her and said, “Let’s grab our gear, check into the hotel and then get something to eat. I’m starving.” He paused and then asked, “What’s wrong with you? Your eyes are all bloodshot and watery. You’re not getting sick, are you?”

  Regina smiled weakly. “I’m fine. There must have been something in the air that messed with my sinuses.”

  The plane reached the gate and she watched the usual rat race of passengers snatching their belongings from the overhead compartments and trying to disembark as quickly as they could. She rolled her eyes, unable to understand what it was about people tripping over each other, just to get to the baggage claim thirty seconds before everyone else when they’d all have to wait anyway.

  “Are you coming?” Zach stood in the aisle and looked at her impatiently.

  “What’s the hurry? It’s not like anyone is waiting for us.” The second the words came out of her mouth, Regina felt a twinge of sadness. Usually, her parents would be waiting for her in front of the escalators. A thought popped into her head. “Zach, I just realized, if we want our cover story to stick, we’ll have to go see my parents at some point. This is small-town USA; it won’t be long until we run across someone who knows me and will be telling my family.”

  “Sure, no problem, that makes perfect sense.” Zach shrugged his shoulders.

  Regina was surprised. “Wow, you didn’t exactly strike me as the guy who wants to meet his girl’s parents.”

  Zach grinned. “You’re right about that. If you were my girlfriend, the thought of going to your hometown and meeting your family would give me sleepless nights. But, since this is business and we’re just pretending, there’s no stress. It won’t be the end of our relationship if your folks don’t like me.”

  “True,” Regina replied. “but they also can’t end up despising you, because they know me well enough to know I wouldn’t put up with a jerk. Fair warning…” she shrugged.

  “Duly noted. Can we go now? Or do you want to wait until they board for the next destination?” Zach pointed at the now empty plane.

  They picked up their luggage and rental car and after a short verbal skirmish, Zach agreed to let Regina drive. Forty-five minutes later, they stood on the balcony of their two-bedroom gulf-view suite at the Hilton Pensacola Beach.

  “Well, I have to say, you didn’t exaggerate.” Zach leaned on the railing and looked out over the water to the horizon, where the sun was slowly setting, changing color from a deep yellow to orange and finally red, while the sky simultaneously changed from a milky blue to the shade of a robin’s egg before turning pink and then purple, just as the sun’s orb disappeared over the horizon. “Our beaches in LA are pretty awesome, but this is on a different level. Quieter, more in tune with nature, definitely a place to relax and unwind.”

  Regina studied his profile, trying to figure out if he was serious, and then turned her attention to the last rays of light to the west of the pier that jutted almost 1,500 feet out into the ocean. “I’m glad the beach and water recovered as well as they did, but there are still remnants of the 210 million gallons of light crude oil that spilled into the gulf after the Deepwater Horizon explosion in 2010. I will never forget the smell, the clumps of tar at the beach. You can still see them after really bad storms, but for the most part, we’re back to normal.”

  Zach checked his watch. “Talking about normal, my stomach is still on East Coast time and rebelling against the diet of airline peanuts we’ve been on since we left DC. I’m open for suggestions, since you know the digs around here better than I do.”

  “What are you in the mood for? You can get just about anything on the island, but if you don’t have any preferences, then I’d suggest my favorite restaurant ‘Pirate’s Cove’. It’s just down the road and has the best crab legs for miles around and some of the beach’s finest beers and drinks.” Regina smiled.

  Zach clapped his hands. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s unpack our stuff and then we’ll get some of those crab legs, while getting to know each other.” He laughed at the puzzled look in Regina’s face. “You really think we can pretend to be a couple, but not know whether the other is more of a sweets or savory type, OCD or messy, wine or beer, coffee or tea, you get the picture.”

  “Good thinking,” Regina nodded. “Definitely makes me feel better using the expense account when we’re actually doing something useful.”

  They unpacked, headed to the restaurant and ordered two buckets of crab legs with corn and potatoes; enough food to feed a small family.

  “Wow, this is good.” Zach dipped another big piece of crab leg meat in molten garlic butter and put it in his mouth, careful so he wouldn’t miss out on any of the butter.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Regina cracked the shell of a big claw. “This is one of those rare places that can brighten even the worst day. During the summer you’d be lucky to get a table; you can easily encounter an hour wait, hence the large bar downstairs. We’re lucky we get to be here before Memorial Day. In a few weeks, it’ll be crazy around here.”

  “Just the right hustle and bustle to hide some serious drug trafficking, huh?” Zach’s attention shifted from his plate to his surroundings.

  “Oh, no,” Regina shook her head. “Don’t even think in that direction. Tommy, the guy who owns the ‘Cove’ is clean as a whistle. He uses Immigration’s E-Verify for all his employees; he doesn’t even hire high school students. There are other establishments out here with colorful stories of misdeeds. I’ll tell you some of them when we’re back at the hotel, but it’ll take more than one night to get through all of them.”

  “I can’t wait,” Zach replied with a crooked grin where only the left corner of his mouth tilted upward.

  They shifted their conversation to more personal things; childhood, friends and plans for the future that were in line with the undercover characters they were portraying. Both took turns quizzing each other to make sure their stories matched up and complemented each other.

  Any casual observer would have drawn the conclusion that the two were very close, yet without the public display of affection that often goes hand in hand with a few rounds of alcohol and the relaxed beach atmosphere.

  Zach checked his watch. “Geez, when did it get this late? Is it really ten o’clock?”

  “No, silly, it’s nine. You still need to turn your watch back an hour, we’re in Central Time now, remember?” she laughed. “But, you’re right, we should probably make our way back to the hotel; we’ve got a big meeting ahead tomorrow.”

  Zach paid for their dinner and they returned to their hotel to get a few hours of sleep.

  10

  Regina woke up at the crack of dawn, feeling well-rested and ready to tackle the new day. She had fallen asleep listening to the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach, which had provided
comforting memories of family vacations, and times spent with friends on school breaks.

  Her stomach growled and she giggled. “Nothing new under the sun, the beach still makes you hungry like a wolf,” she said to herself, before taking a quick shower in her private bathroom, which she was more than thankful for. Zach was still a stranger to her, and sharing would have been too close for comfort.

  Once out of the shower, she dried herself and put on a sundress and sandals, befitting the image of a woman taking a few days off while her boyfriend worked. She stepped into the living room where she found Zach behind his laptop.

  He looked up. “I got confirmation that I have an appointment at the Escambia County Sheriff’s office at nine. Hernandez got it set up for me under the pretense that I’m doing research on drug busts and drug trafficking along I-10 and I’m starting here because they recently joined the Gulf Coast High Intensity Drug Trafficking Area program, and because you wanted to visit your folks. Combine the useful with the enjoyable,” He grinned. “I guess, that means, you’ll have to stay here. Would look a little weird if we showed up together.”

  You wish, Regina thought. She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes “But honey, I was so looking forward to seeing you at work, doing your thing. Why can’t I go?” she replied sweetly, lips pouting.

  Zach rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Does that crap work on the guys around here?”

  Regina laughed. “Yeah, maybe in movies trying to show that the good old South is alive and well, but amongst my family and friends? Not a chance. But all jokes aside, I think we can sell the story and I can observe while you do the interview.”

  “In other words, you want to watch me work, right?”

  “Not necessarily, but I’d rather do that than sit here doing nothing productive.”

  “Can’t you do your analysis stuff?”

  “Targeting what exactly? We haven’t heard from the other teams yet, and without something to target, I’m wasting my time.”

  “Then go visit your family.”

  “They’re working. Everyone but me will be working. Besides that, I can show you the parts of town best known for illicit activities.”

  “What are the chances of you giving up on this?”

  “Zero. We’re in this together and you might as well get used to us doing this as a team.”

  Zach sighed. “Okay, we’ll go together. But I will do all the talking and you’re strictly an observer.”

  “Agreed!” Regina was glad he wasn’t digging in his heels any longer. “Now that we got that squared away, what do you think about breakfast? The restaurant in the hotel next door has the best breakfasts on the island.”

  Zach was in a decidedly better mood after he ate a considerable amount of bacon, sausages, eggs and waffles, all washed down with three cups of coffee. “You were right, this ‘Sunny Morning Platter’ was amazing. I suggest we come here every morning.”

  “Before you know it, you’ll turn into an islander and will never want to leave again. Half of the people living out here were tourists at one time and never left.” She smiled. “Let’s hit the road before you get too comfy.”

  They made the best of the time they had until their appointment at the sheriff’s office. Regina showed Zach the hotspots she remembered from before she moved to DC. Goulding, Warrington, Brownsville, Montclair and Crescent Lake, all neighborhoods with pockets of dilapidated houses, broken down cars and the signs of general decay indicating significant and prolonged poverty.

  Zach had his fair share of experience with poverty from his days as a cop in LA, but he found it surprising how they would come across upscale homes adjacent to unkempt trailer parks. Regina explained how the area had evolved with only marginal zoning, essentially residential and commercial, and building codes designed to ensure basic safety standards, but nothing beyond that, like aesthetics.

  To demonstrate what she was talking about, she drove out to Bayou Grande Landing, where the stark contrast of the upscale homes along the water on one side and the cheap concrete duplexes on the other side fit nicely into the frame of a camera lens.

  Regina pulled over and pointed to the concrete duplexes. “Years ago, I knew someone who lived there; a nice, pretty girl from Brazil, she was here illegally, dated a construction worker and was hoping to find a way to become legalized. She worked at one of the stores along the strip in Gulf Shores. What I found disturbing was how well educated she was, from a good family who was under the impression she was studying in the U.S., spoke good English and could have passed as an American with Latino roots any time of the day. Yet, here she was surrounded by guys who drank too much, did drugs and were all together rowdy and rough. Makes me wonder where she is now.”

  There wasn’t any time left to venture out further, or they would have been late. Regina turned the car around and twenty-five minutes later pulled into the parking lot at the Sheriff’s office, a modern, steel, concrete and glass structure sporting seven massive columns in the front of the building; a homage to Southern heritage.

  They stepped into the big lobby and signed into the visitor’s log at the front desk. A few minutes later, a gum-chewing, bored looking clerk led them to a conference room large enough to hold a dozen people and told them to have a seat before retreating to her desk.

  The room was bright and airy, equipped with a wall-mounted flat screen TV, a wireless keyboard and mouse on the table, alongside a Polycom conference phone. Glasses on coasters and two large pitchers of ice water were set up on a credenza beneath the TV, next to a dozen plates, napkins and a serving dish filled with bagels and cream cheese.

  “That’s what I call a warm welcome. There is something to that coveted Southern hospitality,” Zach said in awe.

  “It’s an election year.” Regina waved her left hand dismissively. “Sheriff Lang will go a long way for some good press, especially national. You’re getting the royal treatment because you can do wonders for his polls, or at least so he thinks.”

  “I’ll be sure to use that to my advantage,” Zach smiled confidently.

  They didn’t have to wait long until the door opened again and Sheriff Lang, along with his entourage, walked into the room.

  “Mr. Jones, Miss Livingston, welcome to the Escambia County Sheriff’s Office.” Lang shook their hands. “Mr. Jones, your editor filled me in on your research. As a new member to the Gulf Coast High Intensity Drug Trafficking Area program, HIDTA for short, we certainly feel honored that you’re starting your journey in Pensacola. Let me introduce you to the local team.” He rattled down names, titles and agencies. A man on a mission and eager to get back to it.

  Regina’s ears perked up when she heard a familiar name, Nick Wiley. She went to high school with a Nick Wiley. She studied the faces of the group next the Sheriff. How did she miss him when they first walked in? After all, he was the tallest guy in the room, always had been, even back in school. When their eyes met, he smiled at her in mutual recognition.

  Regina returned the smile; Zach was not going to like this latest development. She glanced at him, making small talk with the Sheriff while the rest of the HIDTA team waited until the focus shifted to them.

  An uncomfortable eternity later, Lang said, “Everyone, please help yourselves to some refreshments and have a seat. I will have to leave you in the capable hands of Detective Wiley. He will take care of your needs while you’re here.”

  11

  The HIDTA team members noticeably relaxed once the Sheriff left. They all grabbed a plate of food and water, including Zach and Regina.

  Nick walked up to Regina, just as she was reaching for a bagel. “Gina, it’s great to see you! How many years has it been?”

  Regina had to think for a moment. “I’d say four years or so. The last time I saw you, you and Charity had taken the boys to the corn maze in Jay. I’m sorry, I can’t recall their names, but the little one was still a baby.”

  Nick smiled. “That’s right. The little one is Justin, the older one Oli
ver. He’s starting school this year. Can you believe how time is flying?”

  Regina nodded. “Very true. Before you know it, we’ll all be old and gray and living in the assisted living community up there by Azalea Trails. Can you imagine? But, before we get carried away, tell us about that HIDTA program you’ve got going on. “

  Regina sat down next to Zach who squeezed her hand like a doting boyfriend, though it was hard enough to make her suppress a wince. She got the hint. Shut up and let him do the talking. “Honey, tell them about your article, so they can fill in the blanks.”

  With a satisfied look, Zach turned his attention to the detectives and agents in the room. “I’m writing an article about the influence of cocaine on life along our southern border, forty-five years into the war on drugs. The HIDTA program is close to twenty years old. How has it made a difference?”

  Since Sheriff Lang had designated Nick as the point person, he was the first one to answer: “Our counties, Escambia and Santa Rosa, joined the Gulf Coast HIDTA in January, so you may have some questions that will be better answered by my colleagues, but I can start out with a general overview. The mission of our local program is to reduce the impact of drug trafficking in our area on other parts of the country and to do so by measuring our progress against a few different baselines such as, drug violence, number of drugs passing through, and so on. We are currently covering parts of four states, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and now Northwest Florida. Our HIDTA was designated in 1996, eight years after Congress created the Anti-Drug Abuse Act which provides assistance, including funding to federal, state, local, and tribal law enforcement agencies.”

  Shelby Turner, a Border Patrol agent stationed at the Pensacola office, added, “The program allows all of us to work together, across local, state and federal agencies. And just speaking for Pensacola alone, we have a Class A deep-water port, meaning it’s a designated port of entry for all types of travelers. Our airport has international landing rights, and both are only minutes away from main thoroughfares.”