More Monkey Business
Chapter 32
Bill Marsden let out a string of expletives deleted when he saw the left front tire of his car flat as a proverbial pancake. A nail had been pounded into its sidewall so it couldn’t be fixed. Damn, he thought. It was like everything went wrong in Haiti so maybe it was his turn in the barrel. There’d certainly been enough drama recently at the embassy and in Port-au-Prince so the unexpected was often expected. Then again, maybe it was time to get a new tire and simply forget about the incident.
But his nagging suspicions told him it was a premeditated act of vandalism. He’d been targeted by someone, but didn’t know why or by whom or who. He wasn’t sure which one, either the identity of the perpetrator or the correct word usage. His night guard must’ve been asleep at the switch or the hammock in the backyard of his home in Petionville. No surprise there, he thought. He called his boss and said he’d be late for work at the embassy. Someone had nailed him good!
***
The school bus was stopped at a secluded section of road leading to the International School. It was a classic pincher maneuver where the bus was cut off by a truck. The driver couldn’t continue to move forward without causing an accident. The driver couldn’t turn around either, given the steep drop-off next to the road.
One of the passengers in the pickup truck jumped aboard in full voodoo regalia, right down to a grotesque mask. The grade school children began screaming and scurrying about the bus for cover, trying to get as far away as possible from the frightening figure now jumping up and down in front of them. The female bus driver was in shock, transfixed by the sight and unable to move. After a minute or so of vigorous cavorting, the mysterious figure left the bus and it occupants. He was probably heading to his home in mufti, although nobody had a clue where that might be. The gendarmes would have a difficult time locating him since the town wasn’t on any of their maps.
***
Sandy Bullock was attacked as she walked to her car behind her office building. She was a civil engineer for Battelle Industries and had lived in the city with her family for almost three years. While the living conditions were depressing, she enjoyed her job and looked forward to her upcoming assignment to Saudi Arabia. She’d been mostly contented, even happy with her life until now. Now she feared for it.
The two men pinned her against the building’s rear wall and began to vigorously grope her. And she didn’t have a chance to grab the pepper spray in her purse. She couldn’t move and she was too frightened to scream for help. The parking lot was virtually empty so the screams would likely have gone unheard. The best she could do was stay still and let them have their way. She focused her mind on other things to disassociate from what was happening. She understood she’d pay a price for avoiding reality, her feelings and her anger by lying on a shrink’s couch for many hours of talk therapy. But she was much too traumatized to care at the moment.
While she tried to block out what they were saying, she still got the message: “the Americans and their corporations are causing irreparable harm to the environment. It must stop now or you and your kind will suffer the consequences. Get out of our country, you ugly American bitch!”
With those last words she was released, falling to the ground, trying to regain her senses and composure. She began sobbing and couldn’t stop for the next 15 minutes. More catharsis would come later.
***
Jimmy Dugan was the man of the hour. In truth, he was the man in the hot seat and it didn’t feel the least bit comfortable. He was the U.S. Embassy’s Regional Security Officer or Security Attaché or Special Agent of the State Department’s Diplomatic Security Service. All the titles applied equally to the position. Security Weenie was another moniker bestowed on him by those less than enthused colleagues in his role as the embassy’s top cop.
He and his staff had been especially busy the last couple of days with the assaults and acts of vandalism against Americans, several were embassy staffers. The staffers were all demanding the same thing: protect our families and our property. Jimmy took some decisive actions immediately. Some things were doable, others not so much.
He first contacted the embassy’s guard contractor and bitterly complained, once more, about the generally poor performance of the residence guards assigned to U.S. Mission homes. He’d served two tours abroad before Haiti and it was the same problem around the world. Low bidder contracts with people working 12 hour shifts, some with day jobs as well, no performance incentives, low pay, no benefits. Unfortunately, many of the guards were the illiterate dregs of society. It was a shame, but that’s what he had to deal with.
His tongue lashing would have some short-term effect. The contractor’s supervisors would make the rounds and try their best to motivate the troops; motivation was often a threat of being caned if they were caught drunk or sleeping on the job again. It would usually work for a few days, maybe a week, and then it would be back to the same ole, same ole routine.
Jimmy flashed back on his first tour in Bangkok as a junior G-Man and the intruder who made his way to the second floor of the ambassadors’ residence and stole his wife’s purse. It was all the more daring and amazing since the residential compound was surrounded on three sides by a klong, a canal, and guarded by two Thai police officers and two security guards. The unknown culprit disappeared into the night, never to be identified or arrested.
He was alerted by the Marine Security Guard of the incident and responded within four minutes, only to be greeted by the ambassador sitting on the front steps in his skivvies. He also remembered the look on His Nibs face. It wasn’t a kindly one. Sometimes it wasn’t easy being green.
He’d just gotten the call he’d expected, but dreaded the most. It was from Ambassador Ambrose Simmons and he’d been summoned to the holiest of holies on the top floor of the chancery.
“Sit down Jimmy and take a load off.” Oh, oh, this wasn’t going to be a quickie, Jimmy groaned to himself. He wondered how many mea culpa he’d have to recite before being shown the door.
“Ok, let me be direct. What are you doing to protect our people? I thought the worst of our problems were behind us, but now this development. What’s going on and what can we, I mean you, do about it?”
“I’m not sure what’s going on or who specifically might be behind these incidents. It seems clear though the local environmentalists are involved and have notched up their campaign against us for perceived sins. The rallies and protests hadn’t had much of an effect so now they’re taking direct action, sort of like Green Peace initiatives, but more violent.”
“We have and can take precautions to protect our people. I’ve already spoken to our guard service and read them the riot act about the poor performance of the residence guards. Frankly, I don’t think it’ll do much good in the long term, but we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Moreover, I also demanded our contractor to institute a watch clock system at each of our homes which will require the guards to clock-in every half hour to prove they’re alive, awake and moving about. Several key stations will be installed at each property requiring the guard to make his rounds. It’s a good system and virtually tamperproof so the guards can’t fiddle with the results. Any guard not complying will be sacked. We need to get serious with the guards since they’re an important part of our security program. Whether they could fend off an intruder or not remains to be seen. However, I believe their presence, if awake, has deterrent value alone.”
“I’ve directed our guard company to assign follow cars to each of the schools buses until further notice. Our kids will be protected from pick-up to drop-off. I believe the coverage will prevent a repeat of what happened the other day.”
“Good, that’s good, some positive action. The parents will be relieved not having to worry about their kids’ safety.”
“I’ve also ordered our service to increase the mobile patrols of our homes. Instead of an hourly house check, it will be conducted on the half hour. The patrolmen must exit their vehicle and key the watch clock so we’ll be able to verify their stops. By the way, the guard manager mentioned he’d have to lease two more vehicles and hire more men. We’ll be billed accordingly. No big deal in the scheme of things. I’ve got the budget to cover it.”
“I’ve already reached out to the AMCHAM and informed them what we’re doing and suggested they might follow suit. It can piggyback on our guard and patrol contracts if it wishes for nonofficial Americans.”
“Excellent, that will keep that prick Ron Spencer off my back for awhile. Good work!”
“Lastly, I’ve contacted a couple of my buds at the gendarmerie and asked for their help. They agreed to do whatever they could, but they pointed out their superiors might not be so cooperative. Money talks and bullshit walks was what one mentioned, meaning bribes to the right people in the organization might grease the skids, so to speak. I told him I couldn’t authorize such a thing. So maybe my efforts were in vain.”
“But here’s what we need to do and I’ll need some help from the station. We have to identify these cretins and confront them. Hit back hard, so much they’ll regret what they’ve done and put a stop to it.”
“Jimmy, we already know who these players are, The Family once again. It’s another run at us to disrupt operations and make our lives miserable. Forget the environmental activists. They’re simply scapegoats in this drama. Don’t worry about the voodooists either. That issue is being handled by others.”
“Good work and good day, Jimmy.”
Jimmy left, holding his head high rather than his tail tucked between his legs. It was a nice feeling for a change.