Monkey Games
By Vince Coyner
Chapter 11. Martinique
They arrived at Martinique four hours after they escaped La Playa Arena. Four hours was a lifetime in the world of instant communications and Laura could not be sure that Alexander and Albert had not somehow sent out a blanket alert for a stolen plane. She contacted air traffic control and gave them a fictional identification. Upon landing she taxied the plane directly to general aviation.
Martinique was no different than airports round the world, most of which have a rather porous underbelly that can typically be found in or around the cargo or general aviation areas. Like most pilots who come through various Caribbean airports seeking stealth and favors, Laura had money and she was willing to spend it. As they stepped out of the plane they were greeted by Roland the Chief of General Aviation and Oliver, who, by virtue of being at general aviation, was the lowest man on the Martinique Customs Office totem pole. His status as such had little to do with the rigors of the job, which frankly were largely confined to leaving a sweltering office and walking across the tarmac two or three times a day to ask a bunch of American tourists if they had anything to declare. Rather, his situation at the bottom of the hierarchy had much more to do with the fact that his father was at the top of the pole and Oliver had angered him for the last time by failing out of college. His parents had saved for years to send him to school in the United States. He lasted all of 18 months at Florida State University, having spent far more time knee deep in beer and women than books. Upon returning to Martinique, Oliver’s father, Carlos, didn’t even want to let him back in the house. After a week of pummeling by Kristeen, Oliver’s mother, Carlos relented and allowed him into the house and gave him a job at the Customs Office. But he was damned if he was going to be cowered into giving him a job worth having so he set him up in general aviation. His goal was to make Oliver so miserable that he would want to go back to school. In the month Oliver had been there before Laura and Jonathan landed it really hadn’t worked out that way. Not only was Oliver happy to sit in his little office and read or play video games, but his friends would come and visit with him and no one could tell them to leave. In addition, on two occasions he had struck up conversations with women who had been on incoming planes that culminated with him spending the night in their hotel rooms. When Laura and Jonathan stepped off the plane Oliver didn’t actually look at Jonathan because he couldn’t take his eyes off of Laura. Tall with cascading auburn hair, she was nothing less than stunning. As they approached the bottom of the stairs he was standing there, waiting. “Hello” he said smiling at Laura. “Welcome to Martinique. My name is Oliver and I am with the Customs Department. May I see your passports please?” “I’m sorry, we don’t have them. They were stolen when we were on Vacation in Haiti two days ago. We filed a report with the police in Port-au-Prince. I have a copy of the report on the plane. Would you like to see it?” she said, hoping he would not. He didn’t. She continued, “They were supposed to fax a copy over to he Council Regional’s office. We can call them if you would like.” “No, I’m sure that will not be necessary” Oliver said Laura picked Haiti primarily because the entire country was nothing but chaos and its dire condition was such common knowledge. Nothing worked in Haiti, particularly the government. As such, she knew that she could plausibly say that they had reported the theft and it would be almost impossible to disprove with any degree of certainty. Not that any of that seemed to matter one way or the other with Oliver. He had not released her hand since she reached the tarmac. Still shaking it, he asked “So, what brings you to Martinique?” “Well,” she started “We’re would like to go to the Council Regional to get our passports replaced.” “We?” he asked, for the first time noticing there was someone with her. “My husband,” she said, moving to her left as Jonathan reached the tarmac from the bottom step. “How do you do?” Oliver asked in a noticeably chilly greeting, looking and noticing that neither wore a wedding ring. “Very well” Jonathan said as he stepped forward and shook Oliver’s “Please forgive me. I let my wife do most of the talking as my French is so poor.” “Certainly. Very nice to meet you” said Oliver, barely even seeing Jonathan and rather unhappy that he had to let go of Laura’s hand to shake the hand Jonathan had extended. Turning again to Laura and once again grasping her hand, Oliver said “Roland here will be happy to let you know where everything on the island is. If there is anything I can do to help, please do not hesitate to ask.” He kissed her hand and finally let it go before patting Roland on the back. While having no problem spending time with another mans wife, Oliver was never interested in trying to pick her up while her husband looked on.
Laura looked at Jonathan as he watched Oliver walk away. Jonathan found himself wondering about those rather dark unfamiliar thoughts he had just experienced watching Oliver cling to Laura’s hand. Jealousy and anger were not feelings he was particularly familiar with in practice, although he was certainly familiar with what they were. He was pretty sure the feelings he had just experienced and which had noticeably quickened his heartbeat were a combination of the two. Seeing the flashes of emotion and uncertainty in his eyes Laura reached for his hand. “We dodged a bullet there,” she said, referring to the fact that Oliver had not wanted to see the report she lied about having. He looked at her not knowing exactly what she meant. “Entering a country without a passport could have caused big problems. We were lucky with Oliver,” she whispered as she feigned brushing something off of Jonathan’s shirt. With Roland now standing right next to her she left it at that, although she knew that Jonathan had no idea that entering a country without a passport could mean immediate expulsion or even land you in a cell block if someone really wanted to play hardball.
Roland, who had been quiet the entire time led the pair to his office in the general aviation building. Upon entering his office the impression one quickly came to was that Roland was just another petty banana republic government official who ruled his little fiefdom like he was a dictator. On the wall behind his chair was a picture of the President of the General Council in a gaudy tin frame and on the desk was a small oscillating fan. The unsteady metal chairs were no doubt uncomfortable by design. There was even a skull sitting on top of a rusty filing cabinet in the corner. In reality it was a Halloween candle holder that some tourists had left a few years back. Despite it’s first impression, a closer look at Roland’s office revealed perhaps something of a more refined officeholder. On his desk sat copies of the Wall Street Journal and the Financial Times, which were delivered from Miami once a week, a copy of Martin Gilbert’s “Churchill - A Life” and a picture of Roland, in his Chief of General Aviation uniform, being besieged by three lovely daughters as he holds a guinea pig up out of their reach.
“Please sit” Roland said as he gestured towards the rickety chairs. “I wish I could make you more comfortable, but you know how red tape can take something as simple as purchasing chairs and turn it into a quest for the Holy Grail.” Sitting, he started “Now, why don’t you tell me what is really going on.” Laura, taken somewhat aback answered “Pardon me?” “Miss...” “I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?” “Laura” “Ms...Laura, I doubt you were in Haiti, I imagine you did not get your passports stolen and I’m certain you do not have the documents necessary to get passports legally issued here.” “Why would you say that?” she asked. “First, people who can afford $50 million dollar jets don’t vacation in Haiti and if they do have that kind of money the French consulate at Port-au-Prince would have certainly figured out a way to issue new passports already. And second, you flew in with your transponder turned off which suggests you didn’t want anyone tracking you. And if there needed to be a third reason, I would simply call it a hunch. Laura stared at Roland for a moment, weighing how much she should tell him. Picking up on his statement that they likely didn’t have the documents necessary to have passports legally issued to them she decided to take a chance with him. If there was a black market in documents, typically the Chief of General Aviation, as the main government contact with small private jets, would be in the loop or was at least paid to turn a blind eye. If she was wrong about him she would likely find out very quickly. “Well, Mr...” “Please, call me Roland” “Thank you, Roland. You are quite perceptive.” It didn’t take rocket science to figure out they hadn’t been to Haiti. She was glad that Oliver was more interested in her than he was her papers. “ I was a little surprised Oliver hadn’t been more inquisitive.” “You shouldn’t have been. His interests, as you could no doubt could tell, lay elsewhere.” Unsure of what to say next, she looked at the picture on the desk. She looked up at Roland and again at the picture. The little girls had the most beautiful smiles in the world and right in the middle was this man in front of her. There is never any certainty in life but sometimes one simply must go with one’s gut instinct and the smile on Roland’s face with those beautiful little girls told Laura to trust him. If it was a mistake she would deal with consequences as they came. “You are of course right. We were not in Haiti and our passports were not stolen. But I have to tell you, we are not carrying drugs or arms or contraband of any kind. You are welcome to search the plane if you would like. There is someone looking for us who wants us dead. We cannot go to authorities because he has moles everywhere and he would find us instantly.” She looked over at Jonathan and then back at Roland, “I don’t know if you can help us, but if you can I can pay. It is not a great deal right now, but I will promise you more when we get to where we are going.” “And where are you going?” He asked as he looked at Laura and then at Jonathan and then back to Laura. He surveyed their faces looking for something that would suggest whether or not he should trust them. With Laura he could tell almost immediately that she was ramrod straight and no-nonsense. Jonathan he could not make out. He was a good looking young man but to look into his eyes seemed to be looking into an abyss. He remembered once reading that someone said that ’the eyes are the window into the soul’ although he didn’t know who it was. Jonathan’s blue eyes literally gave away nothing, it wasn’t as if he was hiding something, it was simply that he had nothing to hide. Between the two of them he couldn’t be quite sure. Laura reached over and put her hand on Jonathan’s. He reached up and grasped hers. Neither took their eyes off of Roland as he sat there for what seemed like an eternity looking at them, seemingly inspecting them. Roland was not sure what he just saw happen in front of him, but when their hands clasped it was almost as if both of their eyes leapt with happiness or comfort or something he could not identify. He remembered the news programs he used to watch during the early 70s when the OPEC members would negotiate with the west over amount of oil they were willing to pump and the price they would extract. In those negotiations the OPEC ministers always wore black glasses so that no one could read their reactions or emotions from their eyes. Jonathan and Laura were not wearing glasses and Roland was sure that he had just read them. He was not certain what was going on with them, but the one thing he was willing to bet on was that they were telling the truth. He might be wrong but he decided to take a chance, telling himself “If I’m wrong I’ll just have to solve whatever problem I create.” Finally, after what seemed to Jonathan and Laura to be hours but was in reality less than a minute, Roland spoke. “OK, tell me what you need” A feeling of relief swept over the pair. Both smiled nervously. “Thank you sir” Jonathan said. “Passports” said Laura. “French preferably.” “Oh, and fuel.” she added. Roland picked up the phone. Laura and Jonathan looked at him, not sure exactly what had just happened. “Was he calling the police on them now” Laura asked herself. “Get me Thomas” Roland barked into the phone. Exactly 20 seconds later Roland picked up the ringing phone. Without asking who it was, Roland said “Thomas! How the hell are you? Good. I need something. I need two of your best documents.” Not waiting for a reply, knowing that Thomas understood what he was asking for, he continued, looking at Jonathan, “Male 21,"Female ...40...” Studying Laura after he said 40, he quickly added, no, “Female... 35” Laura nodded a thank you to him. “We’ll meet you in an hour. Yes, French.” Hanging up the phone he looked at the pair. “Done” he said. “We’ll pick them up in an hour. We will take the pictures here and we will take them with us” he said gesturing at the camera near the wall that they used when issuing Martinique pilot’s licenses. “Fuel is no problem. It that it?” “Well, actually there is one more thing” Laura said somewhat hesitatingly, not wanting to ask too much, “We need the designation changed on our plane.” Like a license plate, the designation number on a plane told exactly where it came from. Not only visible from the ground, it was the number that a pilot gave to the Air Traffic Controller when seeking clearances of any kind. If they kept their old number, just like a car license plate, they could be spotted or found. Roland smiled, that was an easy request.
The passports would reflect that they were issued on Martinique. This was of particular importance because if they ran into any difficulty in Zurich it would likely take a couple of days to verify their issuance because of the island’s distance from the Continent. Those couple of days might give them time to solve whatever problems they might run into. “Let’s go,” said Roland as he headed for the door. “We’ll get some lunch and wait for Thomas.” Stopping at the door Roland turned and saw Jonathan and Laura staring at him. Laura turned her head towards the pilots license camera. “Oh. Of course, we take the pictures first.” He put Laura in front of the white board on the wall and took her picture with a Polaroid. As the picture came out Laura thought to herself that she didn’t even know that they still made those. The picture had an outline of party hats and banners saying “Merry Christmas”. She looked at the picture and up at Roland rather inquisitively. He shrugged his shoulders. “We bought five boxes in January. They gave us a great deal on the price. Besides, we don’t use the frames on the licenses.” “Believe me” he said to her as she handed him back the picture, “It was it was much easier to go to the drugstore and buy them than try and get them through supply channels.” She nodded, understanding exactly what he meant and looked over at Jonathan. “Your turn.” Jonathan, having never had a flash picture taken of him hesitated as Laura walked him over to the wall and turned him toward Roland and the camera. Laura, sensing his discomfort said “Sweetheart, don’t worry. It is just like an x-ray” knowing that he had had quite a few of them, “except it captures the outside”. His picture came out with the same Christmas border. Roland quickly put each picture in the square holepunch that cuts away the frame, leaving only the central image there. Roland put the pictures in an envelope on his desk and they headed for his vehicle.
Roland instructed his mechanic Leon to change the planes’ designation. He gave Leon the numbers with which to replace the current designation and said they would be returning in two hours and he wanted the plane refueled as well. The trio piled into Roland’s black 2003 Toyota Pathfinder and headed to the capital, Fort de France. While they would not be going through any official channels to get their documents, like a contracted Chinese shoe factory that produces authentic Nikes during the day and knockoffs at night, their source for the fake documents actually worked at the permits office of the Consul Regional. After Roland parked the vehicle in a lot in the bustling center of the town they walked down the street and into the Coco Loco Bar and Restaurant. It was early afternoon and just as Roland had expected, the jazz club was dark and almost empty. He immediately headed for a table located near the back with a view of the entire restaurant and with access to the kitchen and the back door. Watching him as he moved swiftly while observing everything about the restaurant, Laura commented “You’re very good at this.” “Ms. ...” he hesitated, realizing he did not know her last name, “Laura, in this aspect of my work, attention to detail, including ones surroundings, is merely common sense. If one is not aware and alert it makes for a very short career.”
A waiter quickly arrived with three bottles of Evian and a bottle of Chateau Rouget Pomerol, 1999, Roland’s current favorite. Noticing the way his two companions looked at the pasta that was delivered to the table across the room, Roland told the waiter that they would be having lunch and they were in something of a hurry. He repeated the fact that they were in a hurry because he knew that without the added emphasis the waiter would think he was just posturing. Laura quickly perused the menu for something that would not be too rich for Jonathan’s rather inexperienced digestive system. Given that French food, with its extensive use of cheeses and rich sauces might prove to be rather unsettling for Jonathan, she quickly decided on two orders of plain pasta and baked chicken breast. The waiter’s chilly reaction to her special request made it clear that Martinique and Paris were not so far from one another.
As soon as their food arrived so did Thomas, the official from the permits office. A rather obese Parisian, Thomas had decided to escape the rain and traffic of Paris nearly twenty years ago. He and Anne had come to Martinique for a well-deserved rest after a very un-French two years without a vacation. As soon as they stepped off the plane on that late January day they both knew this was where they wanted to be. In a matter of months after returning to his position as secretary to the Conseil General for the Il De France he found a position in Martinique which would allow him to transfer without losing his rather generous state funded retirement benefits. Once in Martinique Thomas quickly became an expert in finding creative ways to use his new position to line his pockets. While selling assurances to “Preferred” applicants that their routine permits and applications would not be “misplaced” provided him with a supplementary income that was about equal to that he received from the state, the real moneymaking potential of his position was in “unofficial” official documents such as passports. Today he brought with him two passports. One for a young man who was born 20 years ago in the capital city of Fort de France and the other for a woman born 35 years ago in the Atlantic city of Basse-Pointe. Both had fictitious names and were completely legal, down to the perforated stamp issued from the Permits Office of the Consul Regional.
As Thomas approached the table Roland stood and invited him to sit, gesturing to the empty chair. “Thomas my friend. Welcome” Roland said as Thomas sat rather unsteadily down on the small wooden chair. Without bothering with introductions, Roland nodded to Laura who then placed a manila envelope on the empty chair that sat between she and Thomas. Inside was $4,000 in crisp $100 dollar bills. Having done business with Roland for a decade, Thomas knew that there was no need to count the money, particularly as it was only $4,000. Had the documents needed been export or import licensees worth millions to a manufacturer or hundreds of thousands of dollars to broker, he might have chosen to count what would have been a much bigger envelope. After placing the manila envelope in the right breast pocket of his cotton jacket, he pulled a plain white envelope from his left pocket, placed it on the table and slid it to Laura. Laura opened the envelope and found two brand new passports, one for a Jean Reajuan and one for Michael Colbert. Finding the official seal and dates that were approximately right for both their ages, she folded them and returned them to the envelope. As she nodded to Roland, the waiter approached the table to check on the meals that no one had tried. Smiling, Thomas quickly stood and left. Although he and Roland were good friends, this day he could not stay for long because Anne had insisted he come directly home as there was still much to unpack in their new house.
Jonathan was a bit hesitant about the plate in front of him, as it looked unlike anything he was used to eating, but Laura assured him it was fine. Jonathan found the lightly seasoned dish quite tasty, particularly since he had not eaten in over 24 hours. The plane would be ready to go in less than an hour so they would head back to the airport immediately after they finished.
As they walked back to the Landcruiser Jonathan was taking in the sights of the beautiful island. The cacophony of the streets was the perfect temporary antidote to the very heavy matters suddenly weighing on his shoulders. Fort de France was the first town he had ever been in and its sights and sounds mesmerized him. While Laura kept a firm grip on his hand he was looking at everything around him trying in vain to take everything in. The sounds of so many people talking so quickly and simultaneously. Buildings that seemed to rise to the sky. Flashing lights and cars that seemed to drive with no concept of order or coordination. Brilliant signs of all shapes and sizes that seemed to be made out of more colors than he had imagined could exist. In awe, Jonathan could not help but find everything around him fascinating, although the excitement was very much tempered by the violent and unimaginable events of the last twelve hours. Probably the most interesting thing Jonathan saw was a policeman who was clad in white sitting atop a glistening tan horse. The trio walked past him as they were crossing the street to the parking lot. Jonathan had seen the animals in books, but there was no way a book could prepare him for the beauty and the majesty of such a beast. It was standing in the middle of the street as the policeman directed traffic. Its skin glistened in the sun and sweat was rolling down its legs. As they passed in front of it, the horse lifted its head and Jonathan stopped without even realizing it. Laura, not losing sight of the fact that they needed to get going and that sitting on top of the horse was a policeman, tightened her grip on Jonathan’s hand and pulled. Startled, Jonathan looked back at Laura for a moment and then continued walking.
Once in the vehicle they headed back to the airport. As they left the confines of the city, Jonathan simply stared out the window at the buildings. There were different shapes and sizes and colors but they all seemed to coalesce to create a canvas of chaotic beauty. Approaching the airport Jonathan was swiftly brought back to his current situation when Roland indicated that they would have to leave immediately. He had heard on his Air Traffic Control radio that a dispatch had just come over the radio that the Peruvian Air Force had put out an alert seeking the location of a plane like theirs.
Laura quickly checked the plane’s markings to make sure they had been changed. After talking to Leon, Roland assured her the tank had been filled. They quickly returned to Roland’s office and attached the pictures in his pocket to their newly acquired passports. Laura examined both documents to make sure that the pictures were secure. Assured that she was comfortable with them, Roland then used a stamp machine to impress a seal onto each. He held both up, admiring his handiwork. Smiling he handed them to Laura and said “I guarantee you will not have any problems with either of these.” In flawless French Laura thanked Roland for his help as she handed him $5,000. As she embraced him to give him the traditional French kiss on both cheeks she looked into his blue-gray eyes, wondering if they conveyed betrayal or trust. Although she had only known him for a few hours, she was certain that it was trust she saw in his eyes and felt in his genuine embrace. She was certain he would not inform anyone of their stop.
Back in the cockpit Laura looked over at Jonathan. She could see the nervous energy in his face. It was hard for her to imagine what he must be going through. She knew there was no way for her to understand exactly what the world must look like to him. Once they were in the air she decided that the best way to relax him was to take his mind off of everything going on around them. She knew the best way was to start was to focus his mind on something else. She decided what better source of distraction than a flying palace. She spent much of the next few hours explaining the various elements of the plane and its instruments to him. Once again he amazed her. He had a mind like a steel trap. He quickly knew the names and functions of the dozens of instruments in the Gulfstream’s cockpit. She even let him fly. When a few hours later she found it necessary to powder her nose, she felt sufficiently comfortable with his abilities to allow him to fly rather than turning on the auto-pilot. When she returned she put the plane on autopilot and took him to explore the plane. He took everything with a great deal of excitement. From the bed to the kitchen to the leather seats everything was fascinating. He was particularly intrigued when she showed him how the toilet worked as the loud suction seemed to make the blue water disappear instantly. She finally showed him how to turn on the satellite television and he was mesmerized, never having seen a television before. As he sat on the leather couch he simply rolled through the channels, too exhausted to focus on anything.
The trip was going to take them approximately ten hours so she suggested that Jonathan get some rest. He went into the bedroom and despite his best efforts, it took him three hours to finally get to sleep as the images and ideas running through his head gave him faint hope of actually relaxing. Less than thirty minutes after he finally did get to sleep he was awoken by the bouncing of the jet as they landed in the Azores.
Martinique to Zurich was almost 8,000 miles, which meant they could not make the trip on just one tank of fuel. While Laura did not like the idea of stopping on the islands as they were relatively small and strangers might stand out, she decided doing so was a better option than trying to reach Europe on fumes. Besides, Alexander no doubt had many eyes looking out for them so this might be just the right place at the right time. They were on the ground for less than an hour and were back in the air at 35,000 feet by early afternoon. Jonathan was captivated by the sight of both the billowy clouds and the land below them. As they crossed into the Mediterranean he could see the Straights of Gibraltar and later the boot that was Italy. He had seen both on maps but he never imagined that he would see them like this.
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