The Imam of Tawi-Tawi

by Ian Hamilton

  Wahab looked at his watch. “What else do you want to do in Bongao?”

  “Unless there’s something startling in the information I get from the bank, I think I’m just about finished.”

  “How long will it take you to figure that out?”

  “If Mutilan goes over it with me, maybe ten or fifteen minutes.”

  “If that’s the case and we hurry, we might be able to catch the late afternoon flight out of here today.”

  “My bag is at the inn.”

  “We can pick it up on the way. We only need to get to the airport five minutes before departure.”

  “Can I get a flight tonight from Zamboanga to Manila?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s do it.”

  Wahab nodded. Then he went silent and looked thoughtful.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “I was just wondering why you want to talk to the senator.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Juhar will want to know.”

  “I don’t like having to provide explanations for everything I do.”

  “That doesn’t mean that I don’t have to.”

  Ava looked away from him towards the door. He has been incredibly co-operative and effective, she thought. “You mentioned that the senator had a staffer check to see if there was any record of Tariq al-Bashir arriving in the Philippines. I want him to do the same for Ishak Kassab and Fileeb al-Touma, and also to see if there are any details on their departure from the islands.”

  “What details?”

  “When you land in the Philippines, you have to fill out an arrival card. It contains not only your name and passport number but also your home address and your destination in the Philippines. When you leave, you fill out a departure card that contains the same information, plus your departing flight number and foreign destination.”

  “I’ve never left the Philippines,” he said.

  Ava glanced at him, not certain whether he was being serious. His face was impassive. “Now you know what to expect when you do,” she said.

  Wahab grunted, sat back in his chair, and closed his eyes as if he was contemplating that possibility. Ava kept her eyes locked on the door.

  Mutilan appeared ten minutes later with two files in his hand. Fifteen minutes after that, Wahab and Ava left the bank. Mutilan had confirmed everything he’d told her about the payroll and other expenses, and now she had the addresses of the banks in Riyadh and Amman. Her only problem was that she didn’t know what she could do with that information.

  ( 15 )

  They made the flight to Zamboanga with fifteen minutes to spare. This time Wahab sat next to her, but their conversation was sporadic and strained. Ava didn’t know what was going through his head and didn’t want to ask. For her part, things were muddled. She knew it would take time to filter and process everything she’d been told. Normally she was more certain about what path her enquiries should take, but this was so different in size, reach, complexity, and possible consequences that she was struggling to figure out where to start. One thing she did feel certain about was that there was virtually no chance of containing knowledge of the information they’d gathered within the current handful of people. She hadn’t wanted to say that to Wahab when he asked her why she wanted to talk to Senator Ramirez.

  She had two hours in Zamboanga between flights. Wahab offered to stay with her, but she was anxious to get to work and declined politely. She turned on her phone while they walked into the terminal. Ramirez hadn’t returned her call. She found herself getting annoyed.

  “You’ll stay in touch with me?” Wahab said before he left the airport. “We should think of ourselves as partners in this.”

  “I’ll let you know if I need any more assistance or if I find something I think will have an impact on the Brotherhood,” she said. He hesitated, and she knew he wanted more assurance. “I promise,” she said. He nodded, then reluctantly turned away and left.

  Ava found a coffee shop where she could occupy a table for four. She took out her notebook and the files that Mutilan had given her and began recording the data. She had hardly started when a waitress arrived. Ava was about to order a cup of coffee when she realized she hadn’t eaten all day.

  “What’s your specialty?” she asked.

  “Fried chicken.”

  Ava smiled — chicken was the unofficial national food of the Philippines. She ordered some and a coffee.

  Then she returned to her notebook. Once she had finished writing down what was actually known, she looked at the questions she’d jotted earlier in the day and crossed some of them off. Most of them, though, remained untouched. Of those, the ones that taunted her most were who was Tariq al-Bashir and, if he wasn’t from the Philippines, how and when did he arrive in the country? Then she began to add questions and, as she did, she saw the challenges mount. None was more daunting than trying to figure out how to get information from the banks in Saudi Arabia and Jordan.

  The waitress came to the table with the coffee and food. The fried chicken dinner consisted of two golden brown legs and a side of mashed potatoes. Ava closed the notebook and files, put them to one side, and dug in. The chicken was lightly breaded and fresh and moist. She started to eat the first leg with a knife and fork, then picked it up with her fingers like every other customer. She was halfway through the second piece when her phone rang. She thought about ignoring the call until she saw Ramirez’s number.

  “Ava Lee.”

  “This is Miguel Ramirez. I apologize for not getting back to you sooner, but I was in a committee meeting when you called, and then Juhar phoned.”

  “He briefed you on our meeting this morning with the young men in Bongao?”

  “He did. He’s alarmed, and so am I.”

  So much for Juhar not sharing the information, she thought. Then she realized that he wouldn’t have thought her request would extend to the senator. “That’s a natural reaction if everything we’ve been told is true.”

  “You doubt that it is? Juhar indicated that both you and Wahab found the young men to be believable.”

  “We still need to verify their story.”

  “I’m encouraged that you think it might not be true.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Ava said quickly.

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “Actually, I’m trying to say as little as possible,” she said. “I don’t want to give you or Chang Wang information on a piecemeal basis. I want to chase this thing as fast and as far as I can go. When I’m done, I’ll give you as complete a package as I can put together. I only hope it’s enough.”

  “Then why did you call me? I assumed it was to brief me.”

  “No. I need your help.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In Zamboanga, on the way back to Manila.”

  “You finished in Bongao so quickly?”

  “I got everything I needed there. If I have to go back, I will. If I need more help from the Brotherhood, I’ll ask. But it seems to me I’m already past the point where the Brotherhood will be that helpful.”

  “But you think I can be?”

  “Is that reluctance or doubt that I hear in your voice?” she said.

  “A bit of both.”

  “What I want isn’t that complicated,” she said. “I was told that you had a staff member check with the immigration bureau on the comings and goings of Tariq al-Bashir.”

  “That’s true. And they found nothing in the records.”

  “Did you explain to the staffer why you made the request?”

  “No. She isn’t aware of what’s going on in Bongao.”

  “How strong are her contacts in the department?”

  “Very.”

  “No worries about awkward questions or gossip, or worse?”

 
“None whatsoever. Elisha has worked for me for five years and is entirely loyal and trustworthy. Her contact is a first cousin on her mother’s side. The family is tightly knit.”

  “In that case, I’d like you to ask her to run similar checks on two other people for me.”

  “I don’t think I want to do that,” Ramirez said.

  “Why not?”

  “I think that my playing go-between — the middle man — would be inefficient,” he said quickly. “I would much prefer if you spoke to her directly.”

  “Will you instruct her to co-operate with me?”

  “Of course, and I’ll make it clear that I expect her to do absolutely everything you ask… within reason, of course.”

  “I guess that would work.”

  “Then I’ll call her as soon as we hang up and pass along your phone number. Knowing Elisha, she’ll be prompt about reaching out to you.”

  “What’s her family name?”

  “Gill,” Ramirez said. “Her grandfather was an American who married a Filipina. Her cousin has the same mixed heritage.”

  Ava looked at the time. “I’ll be boarding in about an hour.”

  “I’m sure you’ll hear from her by then.”

  “Senator, there is one other thing,” Ava said slowly. “We discovered that the money that built the school originated in Saudi Arabia, and that the money supporting the running of the school comes from a bank in Jordan. I’m not the least bit sure that I’ll be able to find out anything else about those bank accounts and who operates them, without outside assistance.”

  “Saudi Arabia and Jordan?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s disconcerting,” he said carefully.

  “What is? The money sources or the fact that I may need outside help.”

  “Both, but obviously for different reasons.”

  “We can’t change the fact of where the money originated. If I talk to someone outside, you can be assured that it will be done with maximum caution,” she said. “Besides, I’m not telling you that I’m going to do that right now, but given the complexity of what we may be looking at, I have to believe it’s a question of when and not if.”

  “And when you say ‘outside,’ what do you mean?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “After everything you’ve learned today, I’m sure you understand the sensitivities involved,” he said. “And Ms. Lee, regardless of who you speak to, you have to keep my name and the Muslim Brotherhood out of the discussion.”

  “Senator, it would never have occurred to me to use your name, or the Brotherhood’s. But I have to say you seem anxious to keep those sensitivities, as you call them, at arm’s length. Is that why you want me to deal directly with Elisha Gill?”

  Ramirez became quiet, and Ava wondered if she’d insulted him. She didn’t care if she had. She was starting to feel that this was a man who liked pulling strings, and her strings weren’t for pulling.

  “In my profession,” he finally said, “there is a necessity for what I call ‘deniability.’ It wouldn’t be prudent, for example, for me to be officially linked with the Muslim Brotherhood. And my colleagues on the Senate oversight committee — not to mention the security people we oversee — would be more than unhappy if they knew I had information about the goings-on at the college and had withheld it from them.”

  “So what am I, your Chinese wall?”

  “Are you being sarcastic or do you mean the traditional definition?”

  “Traditionally, but only in the most cynical definition. You want a wall but you wouldn’t object if notes were slid over or under it.”

  “I have been candid with you,” he said. “Ms. Lee, I am a politician. Sometimes I forget that, but not for very long. It is the nature of the beast. I am being as honest as I can; when I tell you I need deniability to provide at least a semblance of cover if this thing explodes, that is the political truth. And I have to add that Chang Wang and Tommy Ordonez would both completely support my position, since we are bound together in myriad ways.”

  “I understand the point you’re making, but it doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with it.”

  “Who is comfortable with any part of this situation? What we thought might be a problem is now more of a certainty, and its magnitude is frightening. We all have to do the best we can over the short term. I assure you that I will step up to the plate when the time is right. For now, please keep gathering information.”

  “That’s my intent, but I have to repeat that I want to do it in my own way and report when I see fit.”

  “I have no issue with your approach,” he said. “And look, when I speak to Elisha, I will be very specific that what transpires between the two of you is not my business, until you decide it is. Will that give you some level of assurance that I won’t be interfering?”

  Ava sighed. “Have her call me.”

  “Leave your phone on,” Ramirez said.

  Ava pushed her chicken dinner to one side and put the notebook in front of her with the phone next to it. The conversation with Ramirez had ruined her appetite. She’d now spoken to him twice, and both times she’d felt he was trying to manipulate her. Screw him, she thought as she checked the time. It was still very early in the morning in Toronto, a bit too soon to call her friend Johnny Yan at the Toronto Commonwealth Bank.

  Yan and Ava had been at York University together and were part of a group of about twenty Chinese-Canadian accounting students who had become friends. In typical Chinese fashion, they’d also agreed to help each other progress in their careers. Countless favours had been exchanged among them, and Ava and Yan’s relationship had been especially mutually beneficial. His position at the bank allowed him to make enquiries and gather information from other banks and businesses that outsiders would have found difficult, if not impossible, to acquire. Ava had used his ability to get access to help her on several jobs. In return she had directed several large chunks of business to the bank, letting it be known that Johnny was the reason the bank was getting it. If anyone could find out about the bank accounts in Jordan and Saudi Arabia, she was betting it would be Johnny. As she was contemplating the best time to contact him, her phone rang.

  “This is Elisha Gill. I’m trying to reach Ava Lee.”

  “This is Ava.”

  “Senator Ramirez asked me to call and stressed that there is some urgency to the matter.” Ava noticed she had traces of an American accent.

  “What else did he stress?”

  “He said that I’m to give you all the help I can, and that whatever you and I discuss is between the two of us and he doesn’t want me reporting back to him.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “I find it a bit strange,” Elisha said slowly, “but I agreed to it.”

  “You aren’t going to be asked to do anything illegal, or at least nothing that you haven’t done already.”

  “And what is it that I’ve done?”

  “The senator told me you have a cousin who works for the government.”

  “Yes, her name is Zoey Walsh. She’s a departmental director at the Bureau of Immigration.”

  “The senator said you asked her to run a check on Imam Tariq al-Bashir’s comings and goings from the Philippines.”

  “I did. She found nothing.”

  “How good is her access?”

  “She has access to every record in the system. If al-Bashir had entered the Philippines under his own name, she would have found him. She looked at entries from every airport in the country and nearly every seaport.”

  “What if I want her to look for two other people?”

  “I can’t imagine that would be a problem.”

  “What if it were two hundred people?”

  “Are you serious?” Elisha said.

  “I’m just trying to understand the syst
em’s limitations.”

  “It has none that I’m aware of. It was updated a year ago and is as modern as any in Asia. If you arrived in or left the Philippines legally, all your data will be in it.”

  “And you said your cousin has complete access?”

  “She does.”

  “Did she ask why you wanted the data on al-Bashir?”

  “No, and if she had, I wouldn’t have been able to tell her, because I didn’t know.”

  “The senator didn’t give you any idea?” Ava asked.

  “None whatsoever.”

  “Do you expect me to?”

  “Only if you think it’s necessary.”

  Ava looked down at her notepad. “Do you have a pen handy?”

  “I have pen and paper.”

  “I need you to ask your cousin to check on the arrivals and departures of these two people: Ishak Kassab and Fileeb al-Touma,” Ava said, and then spelled each name. “I believe Kassab is from Saudi Arabia, and al-Touma could be Jordanian.”

  “How soon do you want the information?”

  “Can you get it tonight?”

  “I don’t think that’s likely. Zoey’s probably left the office by now.”

  “Then first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll do the best I can.”

  “Thanks, Elisha. Call me at this number when you have the information.”

  Ava ended the call, made a note of Zoey Walsh’s name, and picked up the phone again. Wahab answered on the first ring.

  “So soon?” he said.

  “Sorry. I was thinking about the meeting with the boys this morning, and something occurred to me. I need you to talk to them right away,” Ava said.

  “What do you want from them?”

  “I need dates. For example, when did the last batch of students leave the college and when did the new group arrive? And then ask them to go back as far as they can remember to come up with dates for the other groups that have arrived and left since they’ve been working at the college. I don’t expect them to be precise — even a rough estimate could be helpful. They can use their days off as a guide.”