For a quick recap of our story so far click here.
1985 had been a wild ride for investigative reporter Jurgen Roth. In the early months, an assassination attempt aimed at the former Council for the Liberation of Suriname president, Henk Chin a Sen, went awry. Tragically, gunmen carrying diplomatic passports, mistakenly killed three musicians sharing an office building with the Council in Rijswijk. This event steeled Roth’s investigation into the depths of international arms dealings and the rumored South American coup, where he found himself navigating a world shaped by legacy, intrigue, and clandestine operations.
Roth's journey led him into the heart of the Far Right Catholic Organization, Opus Dei. Roth's famed father-in-law, an arms dealer himself, proved invaluable. Meetings unfolded in Frankfurt with notorious figures like Gunther Leinhäuser, Prince Michel de Bourbon, and the enigmatic German arms dealer, known only as “Wenzel,” unfolded. Wenzel was a linchpin in a complex network, running guns to the Contras in Nicaragua. His specialty? Sourcing Russian weapons for the CIA to ease the Contras' ammunition resupply from fallen soldiers, cleverly reducing American fingerprint on the operation.
The plot thickened in the fall of 1985 when Leinhäuser secured a staggering deal. He managed to send 10,500 TOW missiles, manufactured in the USA, to Iran. This move unfolded as Iraq, under Saddam Hussein, was embroiled in war with Ayatollah Khomeini's Iran. At the same time, Iran was under suspicion for supporting terrorist acts against Americans, including the Beirut barracks bombings and the hijacking of TWA Flight 847.
But Leinhäuser's dealings were just the tip of the iceberg. The Reagan administration, seeking to sway moderates within the Iranian government (which few outside the President believed existed), undertook a similar venture. Publicly, Reagan proclaimed the hard line, “We do not negotiate with terrorists.” Privately, the administration sold 96 TOW antitank missiles through an Israeli go-between. When this failed to free any hostages, they upped the ante with 400 more missiles. This daring gambit resulted in the release of a single American hostage.
Why delve into these intricacies? By the fall of 1985, Jurgen Roth was piecing together a narrative poised to expose the Iran-Contra scandal, a term yet to enter the public lexicon. His findings suggested a blueprint for an arms deal valued over $116 million—dwarfing the known extent of Reagan’s missile sales revealed in later hearings. His book contained the blueprint for moving these missiles that Oliver North later followed almost to the letter.
Roth's investigative lens then shifted towards a more obscure plot, one involving a cadre of Americans eerily reminiscent of Oliver North and his Project Democracy allies. They were offering intelligence and support to orchestrate a coup on the same Surinamese shores that I’d just released my sea turtle. It was this lead, teeming with potential for explosive revelations, that Roth decided to chase, which we will now explore.
On September 9th, Roth dialed a number for the Ansus Foundation. Seeking Mr. George Baker, he navigated a maze of representatives, finally receiving a promise of future correspondence only after he submitted a formal mail request.
Roth's written inquiry prompted a guarded reply from the Foundation, hinting at a partnership provided he could introduce them to his German business contacts. Their error in sending a second, more revealing letter, intended only for seriously interested parties, laid bare their coup plans in Suriname, eyeing bauxite riches.
This slip spurred Roth deeper into the Foundation's shadowy agenda. He uncovered a wide range of global applications for their veiled mission. These came from diverse figures, from a humanitarian German veteran to a security-savvy language operator, each offering unique skills for the Suriname plot.
Among the respondents was MacMillan Associates from Reading, England. An odd trio—a young welder, a troubled factory worker, and a Tory council member turned inventor—proposed assembling a cadre of ex-Paratroopers and ex-SAS personnel for the Foundation. They suggested that Ansus pursue CIA backing or corporate funding, attracted by Suriname's resources, detailing a £600,000 plan for a three-month mercenary stint.
Not to be outdone, Amsterdam's Amnat Manpower, which offered services from Thailand, submitted a bid. Then, in late autumn, the enigmatic "David Randolph Enterprises" from the U.S., threw their hats into the ring, armed with detailed plans for an "efficient coup.
Quick aside: A year earlier, Oliver North’s sidekick, Robert Owen, met Colonel “right outside the White House situation room.” There he received maps prepared by the Central Intelligence Agency or the Defense Department to take to the rebels in Nicaragua. Owen said that North intended the maps to be used for a Contra military operation. At the time, such tactical assistance was covered by a Congressional ban.
In the shadowy confines of a dimly lit room, George Baker and other Ansus Foundation members convened with military and political leaders of the Surinamese "Democratic Party." The atmosphere was charged, each participant aware of the gravity of their undertaking. At the helm stood "David Randolph," exuding the confidence of a seasoned Wall Street broker ready to seal a monumental deal.
Randolph initiated the briefing with an authoritative tone, "Our first option is direct action—striking vital targets to cripple the opposition. This might involve a mix of airborne and amphibious operations to neutralize any potential counterattacks." His gaze swept across the room, assessing the Surinamese attendees' reactions to the prospect of an assault on their homeland.
He deftly shifted gears, suggesting, "Let's think about unconventional warfare, nurturing a liberation movement step by step to overthrow the oppressive government." This idea struck a chord, kindling a sharp intensity in George Baker’s gaze. The Americans, schooled by the missteps in Hungary and the Bay of Pigs debacle, knew that uprisings without local backing were doomed to fail.
However, Baker's patience was thin, "So, this unconventional warfare you propose seems to be quite lengthy. But we don't want to wait that long."
A colleague of Randolph's interjected, calming the room with a gesture, "Please, be patient for a moment. Success requires highly trained personnel, both for the initial conflict and the subsequent governance. We're talking about comprehensive training, logistics, and even compensation for advisors."
The pitch unfolded with military precision, revealing promotional materials that detailed every facet of their coup strategy—from training timelines for new military and police forces to logistical plans for establishing operational bases and a post-coup government. It was evident; these men had orchestrated such ventures before, their confidence underscored by a meticulous presentation.
As the Surinamese suggested names from their ranks for key roles, Randolph's team pushed back, advocating for the discreet recruitment of international personnel. "Our network is vast. We ensure confidentiality and discretion in our operations," they assured, their proposal underscored by a deep understanding of covert activities.
The financial discussion was stark—$6.2 million for a comprehensive three-phase operation, a figure dwarfing MacMillan Associates’s estimates tenfold. Yet, it was the assurance that there would be no issues with the U.S.-Suriname security pact that underscored their audacity. "Given the current administration's stance and Suriname's human rights track record, we anticipate minimal interference from the U.S.," Randolph explained, his tone blending assurance with a hint of conspiracy. "David Randolph Enterprises offers a full-scale solution tailored to your objectives."
As the meeting unfolded, a question lingered in the charged air, "Were they speaking with the authority of the President, or was this display merely an act of bravado?"
Faced with the audacious scope of the enterprise (which, coincidentally, was the other nickname for Project Democracy), Roth found himself at a crossroads, his journalistic instincts aflame. The calculated assurances and veiled threats spoke of a reality far removed from public knowledge—a reality teetering on the edge of legality and morality. The stakes were higher than ever, demanding more than just passive observation. Determined to peel back the layers of secrecy, Roth decided it was time to confront the shadows head-on. His next step was clear: a direct encounter with George Baker. The designated meeting location was a hash bar, discreetly tucked away in the shadows of the red-light district and merely a stone's throw from the ominously named Cafe de Dood (Cafe of Death). It was here, in this unlikely venue, that Roth hoped to unearth the truths buried beneath layers of intrigue and deception.
Desperate to track down the mastermind behind the invasion plans, Roth reached out to a journalist friend for help, circumventing the Data Protection Act through a postal service insider to find the Ansus Foundation's address: 29 Oude Hoogstraat. The street, buzzing with a mix of skinny junkies, eager tourists, and spiky-haired punks sported two ominous cafés, Café De Dood, with its occult allure and the neighboring "Karel Appel." The latter, notable for its history with Amsterdam's soft drug scene and an arrest of Baker on illegal weapons charges, had a paramilitary figure guarding the entrance—foreshadowing the gravity of Roth's impending meeting.
Inside, the sweet smoke of hashish mingled with the air in a paintless, poster-adorned room. Upon Roth's inquiry about Baker, the bartender briefly nodded, indicating someone would assist him shortly. The bar's clientele—ranging from drug-addicted youth to brightly colored prostitutes—cast a mix of indifferent and aggressive gazes his way.
Shortly after, Baker, a short man in blue, greeted Roth. A walk out of the bar, past a mangy German Shepherd and through the backstreets led them to Baker's apartment, filled with characters poised on the brink of action. Two German women and a Dutchman, clearly connected to Baker and the impending operation, awaited. The room, cluttered with fitness devices, a large bed, Suriname maps, and a steel helmet, set the stage for their conversation.
Roth cut to the chase, expressing his interest in the Ansus Foundation's fight against Communists in Suriname and proposing media exposure to aid their cause. Skeptical glances were exchanged, especially when Roth suggested a German public appeal for donations. Baker, wary of attracting unwanted attention, and leery of how little Dr. John’s PR campaign had advanced the cause, dismissed the idea of public propaganda, emphasizing the covert nature of their operation. However, Roth's offer of a 5,000-mark honorarium prompted a pragmatic shift in Baker, suggesting immediate needs for the foundation.
Their dialogue, dense with tactical discussions and veiled intentions, revealed the Ansus Foundation's intricate plans and global aspirations. Baker shared the foundation's struggle for financial backing and their strategic approaches for government overthrow in Suriname, underscored by a reliance on international mercenaries and corporate sponsors eyeing Suriname's resources.
Roth, treading a fine line between journalistic inquiry and ethical boundaries, navigated the conversation with caution. His willingness to aid their intelligence efforts by traveling to Suriname lowered Baker’s guard. He began outlining the Ansus Foundation's multifaceted structure and ambitious military strategies.
"'The standard plan is clear,' Baker said with a hint of pride. “We have three different plans. First, an intervention from French Guiana. Second, from Brazil. And third, from Venezuela. Everything is ready."
A few weeks later, a taxi dropped Roth off in front of the Krasnapolsky Hotel in the city center before his flight to Suriname. Coup preparations were advancing nicely due to a recent advertisement in the November issue of "Soldier of Fortune."
The preparations for a neo-Nazi training camp in Latin America highlighted the global reach and dangerous alliances forming around the Ansus Foundation. Was replacing alleged Communists with neo-Nazis really an improvement? The staggering response of 3,000 inquiries in just two weeks underscored the alarming support for their cause, revealing a network of individuals ready to partake in their questionable mission.
At the center of this web stood a new face: a gray-haired American whose name is noticeably absent from Roth’s records. It is possible that the individual is Tommy Lynn Denley or even Oliver North, who was known to be traveling in this region around this time. Whoever he was, his meticulous documentation of potential mercenaries from the USA suggested deep connections and a methodical approach to organizing a force capable of executing the planned coup. His imminent return to the USA to finalize selections added a layer of imminent action to the plot.
A Canadian named Captain Zack, identified as the proposed coup leader, had a stark slogan: “Killing is my business. I'm like an animal. I smell the enemy. We're fighting because we hate communism in Latin America. Therefore, we must liberate the country.""
His compensation of five million dollars upon a successful coup exposed the lucrative stakes for private military endeavors. Additionally, the promise of leading Suriname's Special Forces underscores the operation's lethal and appalling nature.
On his flight home, after the investigative whirlwind in Suriname, Jurgen Roth’s mind raced with the realities he’d uncovered. The disparity between the lavish lifestyle of Dictator Desire Bouterse and the economic despair of the Surinamese people starkly outlines the regime’s failings. Conversations with figures like a Catholic Bishop and the unsettling encounters with Libyan operatives hint at deep-seated corruption and external meddling.
Roth’s experiences, such as the invasive surveillance at the hotel and the unnerving interrogation by the Chief of Security Police about Chin A Sen and arms dealer Leinhäuser, crystallize the dangers of delving too deep. A ludicrous attempt at a honeypot by Suriname’s intelligence officer using a Colombian prostitute at the Hotel Ambassador underscores the government's manipulative tactics. Yet it’s the whispered rumors of a coup, coupled with the desperate economic situation and the strategic interest in Suriname's bauxite, that dominate his thoughts.
Despite the fear and complexity, Roth’s resolve to expose this looming crisis intensifies. He recognizes the power of the press and his forthcoming book to possibly alter the course of history, making his race against time not just a journalistic duty but a moral imperative. As the plane ascends, leaving Suriname’s troubled land behind, Roth is determined to bring the shadows he’s discovered into the light, understanding that his words might be the key to averting a potential catastrophe.
It's worth noting that Catholic priests were aware of the serious economic inequality and its associated political problems but most US evangelical missionaries in South America seemed generally oblivious to those kinds of things and typically supported the authoritarian rulers at the top of the social hierarchy.
I wonder what it must have been like for him, knowing he was about to expose people whose business is killing.