The Imam of Tawi-Tawi

by Ian Hamilton

  “We could be in Bongao late this afternoon or early evening,” she said when he answered. “We’re arranging for a private plane to fly us there from Manila.”

  “Who is ‘we’?” Wahab asked.

  Oh god, what have I done? Ava thought, and then she realized that it was ridiculous to think she could put off telling him any longer. “His name is Alasdair Dulles and he’s with the CIA,” she said. “He’s been working with me for days now. He’s been tremendously helpful. He’s respected your wish to be kept in the background and he’s kept the Philippine security services out of this.”

  “Did Ramirez arrange for him to be brought in?”

  “No, I did it on my own, because it was the only way I could find out about the banks in the Middle East.”

  “Does Ramirez know what you’ve done?”

  “No, you’re the first person I’ve told.”

  “We thought you had involved someone else,” Wahab said.

  “Is it a problem?”

  “Do we have a choice if it is?”

  “It’s too late to change anything. Besides, you’re going to need someone like him on your side. I’m convinced he will not screw you over.”

  “Then I guess we don’t have a problem.”

  “So can we continue our conversation about the imam leaving the college?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Good. Were there any sightings of him or his people at the airport or harbour?”

  “No, but one of the people we spoke to said he saw some cars and a white van driving towards the north end of the island. There are a couple of small ports in that area, so I’m going to send someone to ask around there.”

  “And did you speak to the police captain about getting us into the college?”

  “He’ll do whatever we want,” he said.

  “What we want is complete access.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  “Thank you, Wahab, and I mean that. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

  “All I need to know is when you’ll be arriving.”

  “I’ll call as soon as I have an ETA.”

  He became quiet, and Ava wondered if he was having second thoughts. Then he said, “Do you think this will be over in another day or two?”

  “I can’t imagine that much more will happen at the college after today or tomorrow. But we have no idea where the students were sent, and who knows how long it will take for us to find them.”

  “We can’t help with finding the students but we can help here. Let me know when you’re arriving,” he said, and ended the call.

  Well, that went better than I imagined, she thought, and decided to press her luck. She called Dulles.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “We’re set up to get into the college. The local police will escort us in. Do you have a plane to get us to Bongao?”

  “Yep,” he said. “Brad just authorized it.”

  “Did you tell him about al-Bashir?”

  “Of course. Has the Brotherhood been able to get a fix on him?”

  “Nothing firm, but they think he and his aides drove to the north end of the island. There are ports there. They might also just be lying low for a few days.”

  “If they do find them, tell them not to initiate contact. We need to have control of that.”

  “I’ll tell Wahab,” she said. “I guess, since we’re getting a plane, your boss took the news okay?”

  “He took it in stride, like he always does. And he obviously agreed with the idea of us going to the college today,” Dulles said. “But he also made it clear that this is the last day we’ll be doing things on our own.”

  “I expected that.”

  “Me too. It’s the right move.”

  “Then why do you sound discouraged?”

  “More like frustrated — I haven’t been able to reach Allison. He isn’t answering his cell or his room phone, and he’s a loose end that I want to tie up.”

  “Well, we’re here in his hotel. Why don’t we pay him a visit? We have the time. I’ll meet you at the elevator on his floor in about five minutes.”

  “Yes, let’s do that,” he said.

  She left her room and had to wait several minutes for an elevator. When she reached the penthouse floor, she expected that Dulles would already be there, but there was no sign of him. She watched the elevator floor indicators, her frustration growing over the next five minutes as none stopped at the forty-second floor. Finally one did but then went straight back down to the ground floor. What’s going on? she thought. She was just about to phone Dulles when she saw an elevator stop at his floor and then proceed upwards. He stepped out, looking flustered.

  “You okay?” she said.

  “I was talking to Brad Harrison again.”

  “Did he cancel the plane?”

  “No, he wanted me to know that Allison phoned friends in Washington last night, and the impact finally made its way to Brad’s ear.”

  “That’s not a surprise.”

  “I know, but evidently Allison is making it personal. He’s accusing me of all kinds of underhanded behaviour. It’s bullshit and Brad knows that, but still, he’s told me to tread carefully and not give Allison any more reason to complain.”

  “Do you want us to go back to our rooms?”

  “No. We’re here and Bobby Delvano still hasn’t found al-Touma, so it would be irresponsible not to ask Allison if he talked to his partners or the managers about him.”

  Ava nodded and they started to walk down the hall. When they reached the double doors of the Presidential Suite, Dulles slid past her and pushed the buzzer. When no one answered, he buzzed again, waited for a few seconds, and then knocked. No sounds came from inside the suite, and they were about to leave when George, the bodyguard, opened the door.

  “What do you want?” he said.

  “I’d like to speak to Mr. Allison,” Dulles said.

  “He’s not here.”

  Dulles looked over George’s shoulder into the suite. George took a step back, almost encouraging Dulles to get closer, and when he did, the bodyguard’s right hand shot out and hit him on the upper chest. Dulles staggered sideways into the doorway and then fell to the floor. As Ava reached out for him, she felt George’s hand on her shirt collar. She released Dulles and stood up to face George.

  She grabbed the arm that was holding her shirt and dug her fingers into his elbow until they hit the nerve she was looking for. He grunted, his arm dropping uselessly to his side as he blinked at her in surprise. She turned again to help Dulles but was struck on the shoulder. She fell back but managed to steady herself.

  “Get the fuck out of here before I really hurt you,” George said, looking down at her.

  Ava propelled herself forward from her crouching position, her right hand forming the phoenix-eye fist. She drove the middle knuckle of her middle finger into the big man’s belly, striking the nerves gathered at the base of his breastbone. He doubled over and staggered two or three steps backwards into the suite. Ava followed him. He glanced up at her and then lashed out again with his good arm. It was an out-of-control swing that she easily avoided. He pulled himself semi-erect and threw another punch. Ava shifted to his right and slammed the phoenix-eye fist into his ear. He fell to the ground with a thud, his good hand covering his ear and his eyes rolling back into his head.

  “Stay down,” Ava said. “If you try to get up, it will be the last time you do that for a while.” She turned and saw Dulles leaning against the doorframe, his mouth hanging open.

  “I think if Allison were here this racket would have brought him out. But why don’t you check the bedrooms anyway,” Ava said.

  “Yeah, okay,” Dulles said. He walked past them, giving the bodyguard a wide berth. He opened the door to the room that Allison had been in t
he night before, and then two others. “There’s no sign of him,” he said.

  “Then let’s get out of here.”

  They walked in silence to the elevators. Dulles glanced sideways at her a couple of times and shook his head. When the elevator arrived and they started their descent, he finally spoke. “I don’t think this is what Brad Harrison had in mind when he said to tread quietly.”

  “I thought that applied to you, not me,” Ava said.

  ( 35 )

  They didn’t speak during the cab ride to Chek Lap Kok, or while they waited in the Bridge, Cathay Pacific’s newest business-class lounge. It wasn’t a comfortable quiet. Ava guessed that, like her, Dulles was thinking about where things stood for him. The problem was that they were in different positions. She remembered what Ryan Poirier had said about Dulles: he was a man in need of redemption.

  They had adjoining seats on the plane. The silence was finally broken by Ava after they reached cruising altitude. “Will the way you handled this case cause any problems with your boss?” she asked.

  He glanced at her. “If there’s any grief to be had, he isn’t the one who will cause it,” he said. “Besides, given that this is potentially the largest terrorist plot targeting the U.S. in the past ten years, I think I’ve managed the situation capably. It was important, for starters, to confirm what you’d been told before raising any alarms. I won’t be criticized for being careful. There could be some carping about my decision not to advise Brad right away and not to advise the Philippine government at all, but I think my reasons were sound enough and defensible. Certainly Brad wasn’t upset about it. Al-Bashir’s vanishing act might generate some second-guessing, but even that could turn into a positive if we get into the college and find something — find anything — that might lead us to the imam and help locate the students who’ve gone overseas.”

  “So if there is grief, where will it come from?”

  “Tom Allison. But more likely from people connected to him. He’s got power and it extends to multiple layers within the government. The agency likes to pretend that it’s independent of partisan politics, but Brad is a realist and runs his operations accordingly,” he said. “The fact that we trespassed in Allison’s suite and that you took out his guard probably won’t make Brad’s ability to defend me any easier if the shit starts rolling downhill. But — and it’s a huge but — if we bring the situation to a successful conclusion, I should be shielded from any criticism by Tom Allison or any of his Washington flunkies.”

  “I like the way you talk about your boss.”

  “He’s a complicated man, not easy to like but easy to respect. He’s been with the agency for decades and has worked all over the world, including Hong Kong and Manila. He’s seen it all and nothing seems to surprise him,” Dulles said. “And for someone who hadn’t spent that much time in Washington until a few years ago, he’s become a master at manoeuvring through and around the bureaucratic maze.”

  “You seem to trust him a great deal.”

  “I do. I’m quite happy for him to make the decisions about who gets told what, when, and how,” he said. “Although I have to tell you, I lobbied him like hell this morning to let me maintain control of this file.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Obviously I’m still running it, but it will be a trickier call for Brad to make when we get our hands on the imam and the Philippine authorities find out about the college. I imagine they’ll claim jurisdictional rights, while we’ll maintain that because the U.S. is the primary target, we should have control.”

  “First we have to find the imam, and your man Delvano still has to come up with al-Touma,” she said. “I don’t mean to sound negative, but in my old business I didn’t like to make assumptions. Whenever I did, I always got kicked in the ass.”

  Dulles shook his head. “There you go again,” he said. “Brad asked me about you and I told him I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re a never-ending source of surprises, and every one delivered in the most matter-of-fact way, but with a confidence that seems to say Wait till you see my next trick.”

  “Even if that’s a compliment, I don’t think there’ll be any more tricks after we get to the college,” she said. “No matter what we find — or don’t find — I suspect my involvement will end there. Whether it’s your government or the Philippines taking over, I’m quite sure they’ll want everything contained within an official structure. No one will want anything to do with a freelancer. And truthfully, that’s absolutely fine with me.”

  “Well, we aren’t at the college yet, are we,” he said. “And unless I’m mistaken, you’ve just made several assumptions.”

  “Don’t be such a smartass,” she said.

  He smiled, closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the back of the seat. “I’m going to try to nap,” he said. “I want to be well rested when we get to the college.”

  “Me too,” Ava said.

  She slept fitfully and was startled when a flight attendant gently touched her arm and told her they were commencing the descent into Ninoy Aquino Airport. She sat up and saw that Dulles was looking at her. “I’m anxious to get on the ground,” he said.

  “Where do we get that private plane?” she asked groggily.

  “At Aquino Airport. They have very good facilities for private planes. They’re set apart from the main terminal, so after we clear Customs and Immigration, we won’t have to deal with crowds and lineups. Susan Crawford will be waiting for us when we get in. She’ll have all the details.”

  It took them close to an hour to work their way through Customs and Immigration. As soon as they entered the arrivals hall they were greeted by a tall, lean blonde with curly hair and a long, thin face. She looked young; Ava might easily have mistaken her for a junior trainee. But Dulles had told her that, at the age of twenty-eight, Crawford already had a degree in international relations and a law degree from Georgetown University and spoke Spanish, Farsi, and Tagalog fluently.

  “The plane is ready to leave,” Susan said. “Follow me. I have a limo waiting for us outside.”

  “What kind of plane is it?” Dulles asked.

  “A small business jet, a Cessna Citation something. It should get you to Bongao in a couple of hours.”

  They left the main terminal, jumped into the limo, and began a laborious drive around the extensive airport grounds to a set of hangars that advertised charter flights. The car drove past the hangars to a two-storey office building. “That’s your plane over there,” Susan said, pointing to one about fifty metres away on the tarmac. “You’ll have to check in with the office first.”

  Inside the building, Dulles and Ava presented their passports to a man who worked for the charter company. “What would happen if, in mid-flight, we decided we didn’t want to go to Bongao but instead wanted to scoot over to Borneo?” Ava asked him.

  “The pilot wouldn’t take you. If he did, he’d lose his job and our company would run the risk of losing our licence for violating a flight plan.”

  “That’s good to know,” Ava said.

  “Always testing, aren’t you,” Dulles said as they left the building.

  Susan and the charter company employee walked with them to the plane. “Safe journey,” she said.

  “Thanks. And you will remember to call us the instant you hear about those fingerprints?” Ava said.

  “I called the lab while I was waiting for you, and I’m going to call them every hour on the hour until I get the results,” she said. “When I do, you’ll get them no more than a minute later, as long as Alasdair’s phone is on.”

  “It’ll be on,” he said.

  Ava stopped on the tarmac near the plane and took out her phone to call Wahab. “We’ll be in Bongao about two hours from now,” she said. “Is there any more news on the imam?”

  “Nothing. I’ve also checked with General Santos City, and the
re’s no religious conference that we can find.”

  “I’m not surprised,” she sad. “Are things still calm at the college?”

  “I think so. At least I haven’t heard differently.”

  “And the police are still willing to help?”

  “They’ll take us inside. Don’t worry about that.”

  “Okay, then we’ll see you at the airport.” She turned to Dulles. “No conference in General Santos City. Nothing else has changed.”

  Ava and Dulles boarded the plane. It had seven seats, and they sat across from each other. “I can’t ever remember doing this much flying in such a compressed amount of time,” he said.

  “When I was in my old business, this was common,” Ava said. “We’d take on a job and then go like hell, because once someone got even a sniff that we were onto them, the money could disappear in a flash.”

  “Ryan said you collected bad debts. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he told me that the first time he met you, you directed him to a plane that was carrying more than eighty million dollars in cash to be laundered.”

  “That’s true.”

  “How much of that did you get?”

  “Thirty million — that was what my clients were owed.”

  “What was your fee?’

  “Thirty percent.”

  “My god, nine million dollars?”

  The plane started its taxi and the conversation quieted. When they were airborne, Ava said, “Thirty percent was standard for what we did. We earned substantially more than ten million on some deals.”

  “When you did that other job for Tommy Ordonez, how much did he pay you?”

  “That would be a breach of client privilege.”

  Dulles started to say something and then caught himself.

  “I’m thinking that you find that rather amusing,” she said.

  “No, I was actually going to ask how someone gets into that kind of business.”