Task Force Identity

by I A Thompson

  Please turn your attention to your left, where Anholts Plantation is just ahead of us,” Hardy said with his slight Dutch accent. The boat slowed down to give everyone an opportunity to snap pictures. “This plantation was established during the Dutch colonialization of Suriname in the mid-17th century. It is one the of longest continuously operating banana plantations in the country.”

  A sprawling whitewashed two-story farmhouse with slate gray metal roofing and blue trim work came into focus. It sat 10 feet off the ground on concrete stilts for protection from potential river flooding and was accented with white oleander and red rose bushes sprinkled across a carefully manicured lawn.

  A woman named Annmarie turned around from her seat in the front of the boat and asked, “What kind of blue is that. It is so intense, but it’s not quite royal blue, is it?”

  “Great question,” Hardy answered. “No, the color is known as Delft Blue. The city of Delft in Holland is world famous for its stoneware painted in white and this color blue, and with Suriname’s close ties to Holland, you will find references to this heritage all across our country.”

  “How big is this plantation?” Zach asked as he got up from his seat behind Hardy and took a picture of a cargo boat docked at the plantation’s pier. It wasn’t much bigger than the boat they were on and looked like it would fall apart if more than a cooler of beer was brought on board.

  Hardy grinned. “Doesn’t look like much, right? Don’t let that fool you. This little boat here not only provides supplies for the main house and the staff living on the grounds. It also delivers and picks up mail and hauls other small cargo from and to Paramaribo. Most of the freight is transported via rail further inland. The plantation stretches across roughly 10 square miles and is the ancestral home of our current minister of Justice, Edoardo Amante. Apart from bananas, the operations today also include logging, reforestation and alloy mining. The owners pride themselves in being good stewards of the land.” He gave the captain a sign to honk the boat’s horn.

  The men loading boxes onto the cargo boat paused and waived at the tourists as their cameras clicked, trying to capture the scene for their vacation albums before the boat accelerated and pulled them away from the plantation.

  One of the Italian students raised her hand. “Do they give tours of the plantation?”

  “They do, Victoria, but they have to be pre-arranged, and there is a minimum of twenty people needed.” Hardy paused. “Who is interested in seeing Anholts up close and personal?” Sixteen hands rose almost simultaneously. Hardy continued, “Good, let’s see if there are any guests at the lodge interested in joining and if so, I’ll make the necessary arrangements for tomorrow.”

  Zach and Regina were taking pictures, chatting with each other and the other guests aboard. Nothing in their behavior had changed when Hardy mentioned Edoardo Amante and had he not seen them looking at each other for a split second, he would have doubted they had even heard him.

  The boat passed the new bridge between Carolina and Gelderland. Finished in 2014, the bridge was a symbol of everything that was good and bad about his country. Before the current bridge was built, the ruin of an unfinished project was slowly rotting away, abandoned for several years while the bureaucrats tried to figure out how to protect their interests, cut their losses and fix the fiasco that was the grand endeavor of replacing the previous wooden bridge. Meanwhile, residents had to use ferries to get across the river for the better part of a decade.

  The river began to narrow ever so slightly as they continued their journey up the river, signs of civilization becoming scarcer while the jungle seemed to be getting closer.

  Hardy pointed at a beautiful orange bird. “Please note this Guianan Cock-of-the-Rock. If you like watching birds in their natural habitat, you are in for a treat. Sonari River Lodge is on the outskirts of a nature preserve famous for its birds. Ornithologists from all over the world come here to study them.”

  Thirty minutes later they arrived at their destination. The resort was a sprawling compound of cottages arranged in a wide semi-circle around three larger central structures flanking a sparkling swimming pool, all with unobstructed views of the river. The group disembarked and Hardy led them to one of the larger buildings while Piotr Groot and some of the lodge’s staff unloaded the boat’s cargo.

  Hardy turned to Zach and Regina who were standing in line to check in. “Have you made a decision on my offer to be your guide? I hate to be pushy, but I’ll have to let Captain Groot know if I’ll be returning with him to Paramaribo today, or staying here.”

  Regina looked at Zach with pleading eyes. “Honey, please let’s hire him. I’d really like to go for a few hikes while we’re here, and I’m sure we’ll see more interesting things with a guide, not to mention it’ll be much safer.”

  Zach was quiet for a moment and then faced Hardy. “Okay, two days. But we won’t pay you for the trip to Anholts plantation if that comes to pass since that’s a group endeavor.”

  Hardy nodded. “Fair enough. I shall make arrangements for the tour of the plantation for tomorrow if possible and will meet up with both of you once you’re checked in so we can discuss your hikes the following two days.”

  He turned around and walked back to the boat to let his cousin know he’d stay for a few days. Then he grabbed a duffle bag and made his way to the staff quarters, where he and Piotr had shared a room in case they needed to stay overnight. It was a much cheaper arrangement than renting a cabin, especially since they split the cost.

  28

  Regina could not have been happier with the cabin she and Zach were assigned to; it was spacious, with two bedrooms, a small eating area, a good size living space, a kitchenette and a sprawling porch facing the river. It was rustic in an outdoorsy style, beige curtains that moved gently in the cross breeze from wide open windows and large ceiling fans.

  She rolled her suitcase to her room but didn’t bother unpacking, instead she walked to one of the lounge chairs on the porch and let herself fall onto the thick soft cushions. “This is so much better than the hotel in town, and at a fraction of the price. We should just make this our base camp.”

  Zach placed himself in front of her, obstructing her view and frowned. “You do understand we’ll go wherever the mission takes us? So, you might not want to get too comfortable.”

  Regina rolled her eyes. “You really have a way of spoiling everything. What’s wrong with expressing a little appreciation for the nicer things in life?”

  Before Zach could answer, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. He opened it and found Hardy standing there. “I wanted to let you know that the plantation tour for tomorrow is confirmed. A bus will pick us up at 9 a.m. If now is a good time, we can plan your excursions for the following two days?”

  Zach waved him in and closed the door behind him, before turning to Regina. “Why don’t you close the windows and we’ll enjoy the air conditioning while we’re making plans. Hardy, can I get you something to drink?”

  Regina walked through the cabin, closing all the windows before turning on the AC. After they were reasonably sure they had the privacy they wanted and needed, they were finally able to speak plainly.

  “I hope you guys are enjoying yourselves. You definitely got the better end of the deal.” Hardy commented while he unpacked the contents of his backpack onto the table in the eating area. He made four piles; laminated maps and binoculars in the first pile, communication devices including radios, earpieces and throat microphones in the second, handguns and ammunition in the third, and camouflage garb in the fourth.

  Regina drew in a sharp breath. “Do you think that’s necessary?” she pointed at the guns, model Glock 19. They were small and lightweight, easy to conceal, with magazines holding fifteen rounds.

  “I hope not.” Hardy looked up. “But I’d rather we’re over-prepared than underprepared. I assume you know how to use one?”

  Regina laughed. “Don’t let my office job fool you. I grew up with a fath
er and brother who are avid hunters. While I don’t particularly care for shooting defenseless animals, I can hold my own in any target shooting competition, regardless if the target is still or moving.”

  “Good to know.” Hardy smiled and grabbed one of the smaller maps. “Okay, first things first. This is a map of Anholts plantation, this here is the route of the tour we’ll be on,” He pointed at an egg-shaped blue line. “The green circles mark the main house and other living quarters, these yellow triangles mark operations buildings for the various goods produced at the plantation, and the red square marks the railroad loading area.”

  Zach put his finger on an area with red shading. “What about the shaded areas?”

  “Obviously, we’ll be perfectly safe during our guided tour, but if we are going to scope out the place on our own, which I very much anticipate you’ll want to do, these areas indicate your levels of potential threats. They’re lower around the living quarters and biggest around the railroad loading area, especially outwards towards the jungle; that’s where you’ll likely encounter heavily armed guards, ready to shoot at anything that moves.”

  “Did you actually ever see anything illicit going on there, or is this all speculation?” Regina asked.

  “The local police were called a while back to pick up a half dozen dead bodies,” Hardy replied. “The official story was that guerillas had attacked the plantation and that the guards had no choice but to defend themselves. We all knew it was hogwash; why would guerilla’s attack a banana plantation when there are much more lucrative gold mines not too far away?”

  “What about the drugs?” Zach asked.

  “Nothing was found, they cleared out whatever was there before calling the police. They don’t grow or produce any drugs here, it’s more or less a trading hub. Drugs come in from all over South America, get bundled and shipped all over the world.”

  “Great,” Zach muttered. “So, we’ll be camping out in the jungle in the hopes we’ll actually witness something that can be used against these guys? Doesn’t sound like the odds are in our favor.”

  Hardy sighed. “If you’re just looking for drugs, you might be right, but if we’re focusing on the infrastructure, regardless of the cargo, we might get lucky and can connect a few more dots.”

  “I noticed there are no night vision goggles?” Regina added. “Is it safe to assume I won’t have to crawl around in the dark?”

  “Yeah, no worries.” Hardy grinned. “We’ve been able to rule out nighttime activities, thanks to a collaboration with EuroSat who made one of their satellites available to Interpol last year. We looked for night time heat signatures for three months and couldn’t find anything. No, they’re doing what they’re doing in bright daylight.”

  “Well, they’re ballsy, you got to give them that,” Zach commented.

  “Not if you take into consideration how sheltered they are by our own government.” Hardy’s face was a clear testimony of what he thought about the corruption in Suriname’s ruling class.

  Regina picked up another map. “And what are these maps for?”

  “The one you’re holding is from the Brokopondo Reservoir and Brownsberg Nature Park. There are lots of things to do there, including a tour of the Afobaka dam, which is what created the reservoir, fishing, hiking, alligator watching, and you can swim in some of the rivers in Brownsberg.”

  “Without becoming a snack for piranhas?” Regina balled her hands into fists as if to make sure her fingers were protected. “What else do you have?”

  “This map is of the Galibi Nature Reserve. It’s probably the most biologically diverse area in the region; it’s best known for being the home of the giant leatherback sea turtle, an endangered species. This one here is for Mount Kasikasima, it’ll make a nice day trip, especially if you like a challenging hike or even climb.”

  “I wish we had time to do everything you just mentioned,” Regina sighed. “For someone like me who loves nature, this is about as perfect a vacation spot as one could imagine.”

  They agreed on Brokopondo, Brownsberg and Kasikasima as cover expeditions, should anyone ask them what their plans were for the days after the visit to Anholts. Then they turned their focus to the Coms gear; it was military grade equipment, made by a French manufacturer.

  “Where did you get this stuff?” Zach asked. “I can’t imagine that this is standard issued to police around here.”

  Hardy laughed. “You’d be right about that. I got it from director Hernandez when I was in DC. He wanted to make sure I was prepared for a situation like this and that I’d be able to provide the team with a way to communicate in the field that was not likely to be intercepted by locals. The encryption on these signals is different from anything I had ever seen before; I’ve got no idea how Hernandez got his hands on these.”

  “The boss is a crafty son of a gun,” Zach replied. “He has contacts all over the world. I have no doubt he can hook us up with anything we may need.”

  They split the maps and equipment amongst the three of them, familiarized themselves with all the pieces, tested the coms devices, cleaned and loaded their guns, packed everything up and put it away.

  They reverted to their roles as tourists and guide when they made their way over to the building that housed the restaurant to get something to eat.

  29

  The bus that was taking the twenty-two guests, plus Hardy to Anholts plantation was fifteen minutes late. Not uncommon, given the condition of Suriname’s inland roads, but long enough for some of the less patient tourists to start complaining. The tattered olive-green bus that finally showed up, did not make matters any better; all windows were wide open, a clear sign that there would be no air conditioning available, and the radio was blasting local folk tunes. After the bus came to a full stop and the front door opened, an energetic young woman bounced down the stairs and walked up to the waiting group, a big smile on her pretty face.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!” she quipped with a sing-song voice. “My apologies for the delay, but there was a traffic jam a few miles back. My name is Anouska, and I’ll be your guide today. Who’s ready to get on board for our trip?” Nobody moved. She tried again. “Common, don’t be shy, the bus won’t bite.”

  She waited a few seconds and then turned to the driver. “Thomas, I told you it was too hot to roll the windows down and enjoy the breeze. See, they don’t want to get on the bus. How about you close the windows and turn the AC on, maybe that’ll get our new friends to come with us.” On cue, the windows began to close, and an AC began to hum.

  An audible sigh of relief went through the group and Anuska spun around and laughed. “I got you all good, didn’t I? Now, let’s not waste any more precious time; climb aboard please!” she gestured to the open door and this time her audience complied.

  Anouska entertained the guests on the bus with funny stories about traveling on the country’s dirt roads, pointed out landmarks along the way, and gave a brief history lesson from the country’s colonial origin to the present. She was great at what she did, and before they knew it, they had reached the gates of Anholts plantation.

  Banana plants stretched on either side of a paved road as far as the eye could see. The bus stopped to allow the passengers to take pictures while Anouska pivoted into an overview of the plantation’s operations.

  The bus stopped again, this time in front of three large warehouses adjacent to a railroad track. The front door opened, and Anouska announced, “You will now have the opportunity to visit our packaging and shipping facilities, please follow me.” After everyone had gotten off the bus, she led the group to the building on the right.

  Large overhead conveyors transported big stalks chockfull with bananas to rows of washing stations. Employees cut bananas off the stalks, washed and measured them before passing them on to packing stations where empty boxes were piled up next to industrial scales and pallets in various stages of loading. Color coding indicated the type of banana they held. Light green for Gre
en Switie, blue for Blue Switie and pink for Katopé. Fully loaded pallets got taped up and forklifts transported them out of the warehouse. Despite the approximately hundred people working in the building and machinery running, it was surprisingly cool, as air flowed freely through the many openings in the building.

  After letting her group take more pictures, Anouska signaled everyone to follow her to a canteen located a few hundred feet away from the warehouses. Iced soft drinks, sandwiches and lots of bananas awaited the tourist group.

  “Please help yourselves to some refreshments!” she shouted to be heard over their chatter. “As you saw, banana production is a very involved process. A popular saying is that harvesting bananas involves as many hands as a banana plant has leaves, especially when you’re in the business of sustainable production like we are. And the results speak for themselves.” She smiled as she watched the faces of her audience as they tasted the sweet, flavorful fruits. “See, I didn’t promise too much? Best bananas in the world.”

  Regina raised her hand. “Where does your crop go? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen bananas from Suriname in the US.”

  Anouska nodded and replied, “You are correct. Our plantation produces exclusively for the European market. Our entire operation is streamlined to comply with EU food regulations, and we ship weekly to the Netherlands, Belgium and France. From there, the cargo gets distributed throughout the European Union.”

  After their break, they boarded the bus again to be taken on a tour of the plantation’s historic homestead which they had seen from the river the previous day. As the bus pulled away from the production buildings, they passed a row of five refrigerated shipping containers on flat rail cars. Zach quickly snapped pictures of the labels as they drove by; one read ‘Hapag-Lloyd’, one ‘Hamburg Süd’; and three ‘RDFL’.