The Imam of Tawi-Tawi

by Ian Hamilton

  “What were they employed to do?”

  “I’m glad you’re sitting down. I wasn’t when Delvano told me, and I damn near fell over,” Dulles said. “According to al-Touma, their objective is to build and operate colleges for the purpose of training young Muslim men in providing security for their home communities.”

  “Colleges? In the plural?”

  “The one in the Philippines was the first. There are long-term plans for others in Indonesia, Malaysia, and Pakistan. Indonesia is scheduled to be next. They’ve bought the land but are still accumulating the money they need from the casino to break ground and start construction.”

  “That’s unbelievable.”

  “I wish it were,” Dulles said.

  “Did al-Touma ever visit the college in Tawi-Tawi?”

  “No. He said he’s the only one not based there.”

  “So he might not know what was really going on?”

  “That’s possible. He was insistent that his only job is to manage money. He said we’d have to speak to Murdoch for details on the curriculum — as funny as that word sounds.”

  “He referred to him as Murdoch and not as al-Bashir?”

  “He said he’s never heard of Tariq al-Bashir.”

  “Did Delvano believe him?” Ava asked.

  “No. But again, as long as al-Touma was talking, he didn’t want to put too much pressure on him. We can do that later.”

  “Did you tell Delvano what we found at the college?”

  “I was instructed not to.”

  “By whom?”

  “Brad Harrison.”

  “Does Harrison know you’re telling me all this?”

  Dulles leaned across the aisle towards her. “I told him that you’ve figured out all the essential parts already and that withholding a few details would be counterproductive if they want your co-operation.”

  “My co-operation or my silence?” she said, sensing his discomfort.

  “There are some things that have to be left for Harrison to say.”

  Ava shook her head. She was exhausted and emotionally drained. The information that had just come to light was punishing her capacity to think. “Why would your boss have anything to say to me?”

  “None of this would have come to light without you.”

  “Tell him he can send me a thank-you note,” Ava said.

  “Brad would prefer to thank you in person.”

  She looked at him. “This is becoming awkward.”

  “I apologize for that. It isn’t my choice.”

  “So what the hell is going on?”

  “There’s a plane on its way from Washington to Manila. It will arrive late this afternoon. Brad is on it. I know that he has company but I don’t have any details. All I’ve been told is that it’s important that you be available to meet,” Dulles said. “I’ve also been told that you aren’t the only person they want to talk to.”

  “Allison?”

  “Yes. He’s been asked to fly to Manila, and evidently he agreed.”

  “So obviously you and your boss have discussed Allison’s connections to the money funding Zakat College and Murdoch.”

  “We have, and I’m sure it’s gone beyond him by now.”

  “If that’s the case, why does anyone need to talk to me? I have nothing more to contribute.”

  Dulles shrugged. “I’m relaying a request. I’m not in a position to justify it.”

  “I don’t react well when I think I’m being manipulated or pushed around,” Ava said. “This has a definite feeling of manipulation, and I suspect that the pushing around will come hard on its heels.”

  “I wouldn’t make either of those assumptions,” Dulles said. “Brad isn’t into playing games. He’s normally straightforward.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you would be straightforward as well,” she said. “Tell me, what would happen if I decided to hop on the first plane out of Manila that was headed for Hong Kong or Shanghai?”

  “Don’t even think about doing that.”

  “Why not?”

  He pursed his lips, and for a second his eyes moved away from her. The sun was pouring in through the windows, highlighting the weary and troubled look on his face. “I suspect that they would find you and that they’d have their meeting whether you wanted it or not,” he said. “I don’t want it to come to that.”

  ( 41 )

  As soon as they landed at Aquino Airport, Ava called the Peninsula Hotel and booked a suite. She and Dulles hadn’t talked on the plane after he insisted she meet with Brad Harrison. There wasn’t much more to be said, and their discussion had seemed only to intensify their state of exhaustion. He didn’t say anything to her until they had landed and were walking towards a taxi stand.

  “I’m going to the office. I’ll call you at the hotel as soon as I know what the arrangements are,” he said.

  “Don’t phone me too early. I have to sleep, and all I need is an hour’s notice.”

  “I’ll wait until things are absolutely set,” he said. “Do you want to share a cab now?”

  “No, I’d like to be alone, if that’s okay with you,” she said. He nodded and stepped aside, and Ava climbed into the waiting taxi.

  It was the height of rush hour. Ava sat slumped in the back of the taxi, absent-mindedly watching the jeepneys, buses, motorcycles, and cars crawl along Epifiano de los Santos Avenue. It was mid-morning by the time she reached the Peninsula. To her relief, the suite was immediately available. The second the door closed behind her, she began stripping off her clothes. Ten minutes later, naked and her hair damp from a quick shower, she crawled under the duvet and pulled it over her head.

  She thought she’d fall asleep quickly, but her mind wasn’t listening to her body. It kept dragging her back to Bongao and the college, and the patch of bare ground that had been turned into a graveyard. She couldn’t shut out the images of young men like Jason Said. What had it been like on the day that they died? Did they walk to the back of the property? How many of them had gone at one time? Did Murdoch’s assistants — his assassins — walk with them or were they waiting for them there? How much time would have elapsed between one group and the next? How much time would it have taken to shoot them, put them in the ground, and cover them with dirt? What did the students at the college think when their colleagues didn’t return? Or were they segregated so they couldn’t see and couldn’t know? And how were they killed? A bullet to the back of the head was her guess; it was the quickest and surest way. Did they kill them one by one, or did four, five, or six guns fire at the same time?

  Ben and Alcem had told her the local staff were given two days off at the end of each three-month term — the time of the killings. Had it taken two days to kill and bury the students? Or maybe they needed the time to make the ground look undisturbed. Maybe they needed to gather themselves as they waited for the next batch of students to arrive.

  It was so cruel, Ava thought. The young men would have been full of enthusiasm, primed to set off on their own grand, horrific adventure. What would they have been thinking during the last seconds of their lives? Would they have realized what was happening or would they have thought it was a joke, or perhaps a last test, the final bit of training?

  She understood rationally that these were not exactly innocent young men. They may have been naive but they had gone to the college for a reason. She couldn’t help wondering what would have happened to them if they’d stayed home, if they hadn’t been enticed to come to the Philippines. How many of them would have conceived the idea of killing Jews — of killing anyone — unless it was planted in their heads and then nurtured until it was their new reality? How many, like Jason Said, just wanted to create a Muslim state that reflected their community and values?

  Ava felt tears well up and trickle down her cheeks. She wiped at them with the duvet and then
shuddered — she felt unbelievably cold. She slipped out of bed, went to her carry-on bag, and put on a T-shirt, underwear, and her training pants and jacket. She started to walk back to the bed, then stopped. She reached for her phone and called a familiar Shanghai number.

  “Hey, mei mei,” Xu answered. “May Ling has been calling me, wondering where you are and what’s going on.”

  “Well, I’m in Manila —” she said, her voice breaking.

  “Is it as bad as you sound?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “There’s almost too much to tell.”

  “Do you want me to come to Manila?”

  The offer was so spontaneous, Ava felt a surge of affection that prompted her tears to course once more. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You don’t have to ask. I’ll catch the first flight out in the morning.”

  “No, Xu, please don’t come. I appreciate the offer, but the thing going on here is almost over, and all I want to do is leave.”

  “Come to Shanghai. Let us look after you.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that.”

  “But tell me, Ava, what did Chang Wang drop you into?”

  “Something he knew very little about, and if he does know now, it’s because someone other than me told him about it,” she said, beginning to gather herself. “There are about 150 young men buried at that goddamn college in Tawi-Tawi. All of them are Muslims who thought they were going to be trained to fight. Instead, they were recruited for the purpose of being killed.”

  “Who knows this?”

  “No one. And Xu, you have to keep it that way until you hear it on the news…which should be soon enough.”

  “One hundred and fifty?”

  “They’re going to start excavating the bodies in the next day or two. That should confirm the number.”

  “What the hell happened? Who conceived of this? Who carried it out?”

  “I can’t talk about it right now.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to book your flight to Shanghai?”

  “No, I’ll look after it when I can.”

  “But you’re coming?”

  “Yes, I promise,” she said, before saying goodbye.

  She took several deep breaths; her chest felt lighter. Shanghai was a good idea, she told herself. Xu would listen to her and Auntie Grace would take care of her. She went back to bed and retreated beneath the covers.

  ( 42 )

  She was in the bathroom when her phone rang. It was close to six o’clock in the evening and she’d been up for half an hour. She hadn’t missed any calls while she napped, and a quick check of her computer didn’t show much activity either.

  “This is Ava Lee.”

  “It’s Dulles.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the office but we’re getting ready to leave. Given the time of day, it should take at least an hour to get to your hotel.”

  “We’re meeting here?”

  “The idea is to keep things unofficial and informal. We’ve booked the Reyes Room on the second floor.”

  “The Reyes Room?”

  “I know it’s the same name as the captain’s, but that’s what it’s called.”

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Myself, Brad, Jeff Gilmour from the Office of National Intelligence, and Charles Bentley, who works in the White House,” Dulles said. “Gilmour and Bentley will not tell you where they work, and you’re not supposed to know. But Brad and I figured you should understand who you’re dealing with. Bentley shares Allison’s religious views and has a past association with him. He’s a bit of a jerk but smart and tough, so don’t underestimate him. Gilmour has his own ties to the White House. He’s a heavy hitter in my field and as senior as Brad.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ve already given them a quick briefing.”

  “Have you spoken to Delvano?”

  “He’s been told to back off on al-Touma until decisions are made here. He’s pissed about it but there’s nothing he can do.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Reyes has obviously reported the situation at the college. The National Police have called a news conference for seven o’clock tonight, and some friends over there said a task force has been mobilized. By tomorrow morning the college will be swarming with cops, military, pathologists, and any number of forensic and technical people.”

  “Do you know what’s going to be said at the press conference?”

  “They don’t have any hard facts yet. All they have are bodies in the ground, but you can bet they’ll squeeze as much drama as they can out of this.”

  “What about the Muslim connection?”

  “It will be played up. They’re going full out to try to locate al-Bashir, and they are emphasizing that he’s an imam.”

  “Any al-Bashir sightings?”

  “Nope.”

  “I feel badly for Wahab and the Brotherhood. They’re going to get tarred with that brush.”

  “Well, he’s got Captain Reyes to speak for him…assuming that the captain still has some role to play.”

  Ava’s phone indicated another incoming call. It was Chang Wang. She hesitated and then said, “Alasdair, I have to take another call. Let me know when you get to the hotel.” She switched lines. “Uncle Chang.”

  “Ava, I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m assuming that means you know what happened at the college?”

  “Ramirez just told me. I can hardly believe it.”

  “He must be worried about the pineapple plantations,” she said. “How does Tommy feel?”

  “I haven’t told him yet, but when I do, I’m going to remind him that he was the one who did the deal with Ramirez and he was the one who took on the risk. I’m also going to tell him that we owe you an apology for involving you in this mess.”

  “It’s just awful,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Just so it’s clear, I did everything I could to protect the Brotherhood.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  “And I plan to leave Manila tomorrow.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Chang said. “I thought about Uncle when I heard what happened. I thought how angry Uncle would have been at me for putting you in this situation. When he drank, he used to brag about how tough and smart you are, except he said you have trouble dealing with death.”

  “What kind of person is comfortable with death?”

  “Those who accept that it is inevitable and who understand that all they’re missing is the date,” Chang said.

  “Uncle was right. It isn’t a subject I want to think or talk about.”

  “Neither do I. But then you look in the mirror one morning and a stranger is looking back at you.” Then, sensing her discomfort, Chang said, “But you have many years ahead of you.”

  “Thank you, Uncle. I’ll call you if something new comes up with regard to the college or the Brotherhood,” she said, ending the conversation.

  She looked at her reflection in the mirror. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then finished brushing her hair and coiled it back with the ivory chignon pin. She was wearing a white Brooks Brother shirt with a modified Italian collar and French cuffs, black slacks, and black pumps. Instead of the green jade cufflinks she normally wore, she chose a gold pair with blue enamel and Chinese lettering that read LUCK IS WITH YOU; she had bought them at the Shanghai Tang store in Hong Kong. She put on some red lipstick and a touch of black mascara and slipped her gold crucifix around her neck. She looked smart, professional, and — she thought as she fingered the crucifix — Christian.

  Ava walked back into the living room and turned on the television to a local news channel. There was no mention of the press conference, Tawi-Tawi, or
Bongao. She left the TV on and went to her computer. Starting with her mother, she wrote messages to her entire family and most of her close friends. She told them where she was and that she’d be heading to Shanghai the next day and would be back on the grid. She finished every email the same way: I love you and miss you.

  At seven o’clock she looked at the television and saw there was a special news alert. She turned up the volume. An empty podium appeared on the screen; on the wall behind it was a seal with the words NATIONAL POLICE OF THE PHILIPPINES beneath. To either side of the podium Ava saw television cameras, with journalists seated in front of them.

  At ten after seven the podium was still unattended, and there was no indication of why the news conference had been called. A moment later, what looked like a sound technician checked the microphones. When he left, she saw several uniformed officers begin to congregate in the background. As they started towards the podium, her phone rang. “Damn it,” she said as she answered.

  “It’s Dulles. I’m downstairs in the hallway near the meeting room. We’re ready to go.”

  “The press conference is just about to start.”

  “You’ll have to skip it. Everyone is antsy, and making them wait will only make it worse.”

  “Five minutes, then,” Ava said.

  “One more thing: Tom Allison and his bodyguard George are definitely in Manila.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Allison phoned Bentley when he landed.”

  “Bentley is the one from the White House who knows him?”

  “He is.”

  “Uncle used to say that the only thing more loathsome than politicians and crooked businessmen are the parasites who feed off them.”

  ( 43 )

  Ava rode the elevator to the second floor and exited with some apprehension.

  “Over here,” Dulles said, standing about twenty metres from her in the empty corridor. She thought he looked even more agitated than when she’d left him in the morning. “Did you have a tough afternoon?” she asked as she approached.