Garbled Communications
Chapter 18
Our counteroffensive was beginning to have an impact, at least on the general population, but probably not so much on The Family, I suspected. It had just hijacked a USAID truck and killed two people in cold blood. I needed to communicate with Jersey on the latest developments and get his buy-in on our strategy. I couldn’t use my cell phone or a landline or the secure voice at the embassy. The embassy was off limits and the other means were too insecure given the listeners at several embassies in the capital. It was much too risky to chance a compromise and have our operation exposed and maybe thwarted.
Since Navajo code talkers were in short supply, I did the next best thing and pulled the one-time code pad out of my briefcase. It’d been easily disguised in a paperback novel and the authorities on either ends of my flight paid no attention. It was effective, but severely limited in terms of the amount of text I could send and Jersey receive on his G-mail account at home. That was its major drawback. So, I went to my laptop and typed out the coded message and sent it. If he didn’t like what I was up to, he’d contact the station and get word to me via Frank. The station was keeping Langley regularly updated, but wondered how much of the information filtered back to Jersey.
I hadn’t seen Frank in the past couple of days and frankly wondered what he was working on. He’d been extremely useful in providing context for the voodoo stuff and The Family’s part in the drama. His role as messenger between me and the embassy was also important. I’d make sure to write a glowing attaboy to his bosses when I returned home, if I returned, regardless how things might conclude.
***
He’d already warned his aunt about the drop transmitter he’d furnished to Dick Avery at his request. It didn’t work, but was a reminder to her how easily her conversations could be intercepted with a bit of technology.
He’d kept Mama informed of every action the embassy had taken to counter The Family’s campaign to frighten the embassy’s Haitian staff. He had no love for the Americans, although he was one, but not of his choice. His parents had applied for his U.S. citizenship while he was still a child. He much preferred life in Haiti, despite its enormous problems and glad his parents had returned when he was in his early teens. His aunt was in a real sense his mama. Both his parents died in a suspicious house fire while he was at school. He then lived with Mama and her son who was his age. She lovingly raised him and considered him to be her own. She smoothed over his youthful indiscretions and nurtured him in the ways of voodoo.
However, he always wondered if the half-witted Desmond had started the fire out of jealously, pure spite. Cousin or no cousin, he believed the little bastard was fully capable of causing such a horrific act. He’d roomed with him during high school and glimpsed the depths of his depravities. And they gave him troubling nightmares which remained to this day!
Mama’s family had been his and still his as a senior member of the criminal enterprise. The Family was his life and the voodoo his religion. He planned to become a Houngan one day and replace Mama as head of The Family, but only when she was too old or feeble to carry out her duties, both the religious as well as the illicit ones. He was in no hurry since there was much to learn and do before he’d be ready to shoulder the mantle of power.
With Bondye’s love and Aunt Marie Claire’s guidance, he’d grown up smart and strong, graduating with honors from Saint Gerard University. Two years of correspondence classes at Arizona State University earned him a master’s degree in international relations. He spoke fluent French, English, and Creole, along with a smattering of Spanish.
The CIA eventually took an interest and recruited him, offering a contract position rather than as a direct-hire appointment. Given his dual citizenship, it was the best he could do. He would never become an employee given his supposed divided loyalties. That was fine with Frank. He was happy with the job that paid much more than those available on the local economy. And, the best part, he could stay in Haiti for the rest of his life. Something he dearly wanted to do. It was the home he’d never leave.
Things had gone very well for him since. He now had more money than he needed thanks to his government salary, but more so through The Family businesses, a few legitimate ones for show and the others which earned serious amounts of money.
Well, there was still one, very large thorn in his and The Family’s side: Dick Avery. His covert strategies to fight back were gaining strength. He needed to be eliminated or he and the embassy just might bring The Family down. Perhaps a fall down a flight of stairs or a hit and run accident just might work; a fatal comeuppance. But it certainly couldn’t be anything as direct and crude as the handiwork of Damon’s zombies. That would be too obvious. It would also result in a shit storm of major proportion. The U.S. government would pull out all the stops to find out who was responsible. No, that couldn’t happen. There would be too many questions asked with much unwanted attention to The Family. Something more subtle was in order. He’d discuss the matter with his mama. Mother always knew best.