“Looks like Christmas came early,” Dr. Klein said as a calculating smile formed on his mouth.
* * *
“Stop, you crazy ass dog!” Danny yelled.
Danny focused on the dog’s eyes as it positioned itself for attack. As if the dog was high on drugs, it opened its terrifying mouth with its sharp teeth glistening in the morning sun. Everything around him moved in slow motion. The last thing he wanted was to hurt the poor creature, but he didn’t have any choice. Just in the nick of time, Helen pulled out an energy bar and threw it at the dog. The food instantly grabbed the dog’s attention, and it stopped from barking and began chewing the energy bar.
Though Helen’s quick thinking had preoccupied the dog, their relief was short lived when a familiar yellow sedan pulled up on the street.
“We need to get out of here fast,” Danny said, dropping the rake. He directed her to run as far away as possible from the open field in order to blend in with the pedestrians on the sidewalks going about their day.
* * *
There were hundreds of white taxis zooming along Session Road, but each one was full of passengers. Danny knew an empty taxi would eventually pass by, but it would be suicide to stand on the side of the road trying to flag one down with Dr. Klein and his men right behind them. Danny thought of hiding in one of the building’s alleyways to wait until a taxi pulled up and dropped off a passenger, but that could chip away precious minutes.
A group of school children, led by their teacher, suddenly crossed the street. Traffic came to a halt. Just then, Helen saw an empty taxi directly in front of them.
“Let’s go,” she said, tugging on Danny’s shirt.
They got in the backseat and quickly closed the door.
“Where do you want to go?” the driver asked.
“To the Military Academy compound,” Danny said.
As soon as the driver set the meter on and the taxi started moving, a disco song about staying alive started blasting out the speakers. All that Danny could hope for was that they would still be alive when they got to their destination. He reached for Helen’s hand. Both of them finally breathed a sigh of relief.
TWELVE
The entrance to the Philippine Military Academy looked like a castle’s ramparts. Danny pulled Helen closer to him to make it look like they were a couple of tourists on a leisurely tour. The guard peered inside the taxi for a quick inspection and waved them through.
Not knowing where to find Captain Santos, Danny and Helen walked into what they thought was the administration building. Cadets in uniforms, consisting of black shoes, white pants, grey long-sleeve tops and red hats filled the building.
Danny walked up to a middle-aged woman with oval-shaped glasses sitting behind the desk.
“Ma’am, we’re looking for Captain Santos.”
“May I ask why?” the woman replied.
“It’s a private matter,” Helen said.
The woman’s eyebrows rose as she fished for more information.
“We’re sent by General Rosales. I believe he has taught some courses here some years back when he was in active duty,” Danny said.
“And how did you know him?” the woman asked.
“We attended his annual charity event last night. We
need to deliver an important message to him,” Helen added.
“Captain Santos is reviewing the cadets.”
* * *
The grandstand was filled with military personnel in their class-B uniforms when Danny and Helen arrived. The PMA silent drill team was performing in the open field. They sat in the upper seats and waited until the short program was over.
The cadets marched with rifles resting on their shoulders, their arms swinging in perfect unison, then stopped just in front of the grandstand, knees still rising and falling as they marched in place. Their chins jutted forward, chests out and shoulders pulled back like toy soldiers on a Christmas music box. The cadets formed a circle. In one fluid move, each cadet passed his rifle to the man to his right, creating a trick that the circle was rotating. The crowd cheered. For their next act, they spun their rifles and threw them behind. The cadet behind stepped forward and with perfect timing caught the falling rifle. The move was repeated several times. Their proficiency created the illusion of an undulating sea.
As soon as the presentation was over, the crowd stood up and headed for the exit. Danny and Helen proceeded directly to the middle of the grandstand where several high-ranking officials in their army-green and navy-white uniforms were gathered. Since neither Danny nor Helen knew what Captain Santos looked like, they asked a military man with lots of ribbons displayed on his left chest and wearing an ornately designed hat, who was standing in the mix of the officers.
“Good afternoon, sir. We’re looking for Captain Santos,” Danny asked, bowing his head to show humility.
The military man had a protruding stomach that suggested many years of good life.
“I’m Captain Santos.”
“Sir. If you can please spare a minute, we have a few questions we’d like to ask you,” Danny said.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
“We’re here on behalf of General Rosales,” Helen said.
The cordial expression on Captain Santos’ face changed into a contorted look of confusion.
“I believe you might have mistaken me for someone else. I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“General Rosales was in charge of the military operations in Mindanao a few years back. He told me that you served together,” Danny said.
Danny felt his heart drop and a sickening feeling bubbling in his stomach. Maybe General Rosales had just told them a lie to brush them off and make them leave. It was a common trait for Filipinos not to say no directly to a person asking favors in order to save face from embarrassment. Usually one would instead get an answer like “I’ll see what I can do” or “It might be difficult to do what you’re asking”. But General Rosales seemed to be sincere when he told them that he would help get them in touch with an official who had dealt with Commander Berto. Now Danny felt like he was making a fool of himself.
Captain Santos grew irritated. Helen sensed his annoyance and quickly tugged Danny’s hand.
“Pardon us,” Helen said.
“We’re sorry for bothering you on your busy day. It must have been a big mix up,” Danny said.
Just when Danny and Helen were about to leave, one of the officers interrupted. “There’s another officer here named Captain Sando.”
In an instant, Danny realized that General Rosales might have mispronounced Captain Santos for Captain Sando when he was rushing down to the courtyard.
“Perhaps he’s the one we’re looking for. Is he a doctor?” Helen asked.
“Yes. He leads a college volunteer group and just left for the Banaue Rice Terraces early this morning.”
* * *
An hour later, they retrieved the SUV from the small parking space where they had left it. Helen watched the city slowly disappearing in the side-view mirror as they drove away from the city of pines. She thought of their ordeal earlier with the crazy car chase up Kennon Road, the vicious dog that nearly ravaged them, and Dr. Klein’s relentlessness to get his hands on the Cube. She wondered if Captain Sando would be able to give them any guidance to help them get in touch with Commander Berto. They were now going farther away from where Blake was being held captive and heading right into the Cordillera Mountain.
After driving more than five hours, they arrived at the Banaue Rice Terraces. Ifugaos were performing a traditional dance in the open field for backpackers. The male dancers wore red loincloths and brimless feathered hats. The women wore red and black striped skirts with white blouses. In a circle, they danced to the beat of brass cymbals clanging together in a rhythmic pattern. Slightly hunched over, their arms were outstretched like Philippine eagles soaring over the mountains.
Danny maneuvered the SUV down a narrow, two-lane road alongsi
de a shallow creek running down from the mountain until reaching the place where Captain Sando and his group of students were supposed to be staying—the Sky Inn.
Danny approached the front desk clerk, a middle-aged man reading a newspaper and drinking coffee.
“Kuya, please forgive our rudeness. We’re looking for Captain Sando. Is he here?” Danny asked.
“You also volunteers?”
“Kinda,” Helen said.
“He is with his students where the Ifugaos live,” the man said.
“Do you know where?” Helen asked.
The man motioned them to the balcony. The view from their vantage point was spectacular. From a distance, Banaue Rice Terraces looked like giant steps ascending into the sky. The rows of green rice stalks sprang out from the water. Though Danny had seen pictures in textbooks when he was in grade school, nothing prepared him for the grandeur of the 2,000-year-old masterpiece by the Ifugao tribe, who layered the mountains using rudimentary tools like wooden picks and shovels that were only available during their time.
“The rice terraces look amazing,” Helen said.
“Beautiful, huh?” the man said. “It’s the eighth wonder of the world. I know there’s only seven but I think there should be eight. Do you see where that smoke is coming from?” the man said, pointing. “Captain Sando is there right now with his students.”
Danny narrowed his eyes and focused on the small village framed by clumps of banana trees. There were no more than thirty houses perched on the side of the mountain. Most of houses were built from cinder blocks and corrugated roofs, while some were made in the traditional Ifugao design with tall, sloping thatched roofs.
“How do we get there?” Helen asked.
“Just go that way and it will lead you there,” the man answered, pointing to a trail going down the mountain.
Danny and Helen followed the path of stone steps descending towards the small village. They walked along a stream rolling down the mountain. A series of interconnected bamboo pipes diverted water to the terrace and flooded the flat plain. The residual water flowed down to the lower layer of another rice terrace below. Danny and Helen carefully walked along the stone wall that served as a dike to hold the water in and prevent the soil from eroding. The flowers along the way danced in the wind and green blades of rice leaves stood proudly under the dome of the bright sky.
* * *
Captain Sando was sitting on the bench next to a board with various packages of medicine tacked to it. He was a thin man with clear brown skin and a sympathetic face. Danny and Helen quietly stood behind the villagers and the volunteer medical students gathered around him and listened without interrupting the presentation.
“This pink one is for your stomach. When you have headaches, you take this white pill. If you are ever confused, we have clinics you can go to that are staffed by nursing students and doctors,” Captain Sando said, pointing to the medicines with a long stick.
From the expressions on the villagers’ faces, they seemed confused with the variety modern medicines he was presenting.
The village elders stood up defiantly. “Why do we need your medicines? For years, the medicine man has been treating our ailments through traditional methods with herbs and special plants.”
Captain Sando countered. “You shouldn’t stop using the medicinal plants that have been working for you, but because foreigners visit your villages, they can unfortunately bring diseases not native to you. New diseases need modern medicines to cure them.”
When the presentation was over, the volunteer students broke up into small groups to teach the villagers how to get to the medical clinics set up in town.
Danny and Helen approached Captain Sando.
“Good afternoon, Captain,” Danny said.
“Are you here to volunteer your services?” Captain Sando replied, puzzled.
“No, sir, we came here on behalf of General Rosales. I believe you two are good friends. We met him at the party he hosted yesterday.”
“So you met my compadre, Manoy?”
“He told us to meet with you, sir,” Helen added.
“What exactly are you here for?”
“Didn’t he call you already?”
“Let me see,” Captain Sando glanced at his phone and began reading the message out loud. “Pards, see if you can help Danny and Helen. They came to see me asking for help yesterday but I couldn’t. I hope you can do something for them.”
“We came to see General Rosales hoping he could help up us get in contact with Commander Berto,” Danny said.
“The leader of Kulog ng Timog? Why do you want to see him?” Captain Sando asked.
“His group kidnapped my best friend while he was conducting research in the Sulu Sea. We were hoping that General Rosales could help us but he said that he had already retired from the army and suggested to see you instead because you’ve dealt with this group in the past. Can you help us get in touch with him?”
“Aren’t the Philippine authorities already handling this? I’m sure the last thing that the government wants is for another hostage to die.”
“I think the U.S. and Philippine governments are already doing that but I’m afraid that my cousin might be killed during his rescue,” Helen said. “We’d rather give into Kulog ng Timog’s demands to get him back without further delay.”
“How much is Commander Berto asking?” Captain Sando asked.
“A million dollars and a formula that I had developed,” Danny said.
“I think you might have a bit of a problem. Commander Berto is not your typical outlaw operating in the southern Philippines. He almost always transports his hostages to a different location right away to avoid detection. This is what happened to the Frenchman they kidnapped sailing in the area two years ago. He was taken to one of the hundreds of tiny islands in the area. Most likely, your friend is now on the island of Basilan. If that’s the case, then it would be very difficult for you two to reach him. Kulog ng Timog’s camp is entrenched deep in the jungles and constantly moving. Even the army has difficulties locating them, despite the armored personnel carriers and helicopters at their disposal. I don’t think I’m the right person to help you on this issue. I’m a military doctor, not a hostage negotiator.”
The bad news hit Danny hard. He felt as if shotgun pellets had just blasted through his chest. Distraught, he sat down on the wooden bench to compose himself.
“Looks like we have no other choice but to head back to Manila and go directly to the U.S. Embassy, and tell them that Commander Berto is demanding the Cube as the ransom and let them solve it,” Helen said.
“There might be another way to reach Commander Berto,” Captain Sando added.
Danny looked up.
“How’s that possible?”
“I was the doctor who treated the kidnapped Korean man after he was freed by Kulog ng Timog. I remember a go-between was involved in his release. He goes by the name ‘Boy.’”
“Captain, it seems that every male in this country from age five to fifty is nicknamed ‘Boy’. Do you have his exact name?”
“From what I remember, he owns a club in Olongapo City called Paradise East. His full nickname is ‘Boy Kulot’—Kulot means curly hair. Go see him and maybe he can help you.”
“Thank you, Captain. This means a lot to us,” Helen said, her eyes perking up.
“It’s a long shot, but if he decides to help you he’ll ask to get paid in return for his services,” Captain Sando said.
“We came prepared, sir,” Danny said.
“It’s not going to be cheap.”
* * *
Back in the SUV, Danny dialed Melchor’s number.
“Did you learn anything?” Melchor asked.
“We need to meet with the hostage negotiator. He lives in Olongapo City,” Danny said.
“You’re going when?”
“It would take us another six hours to get back to Baguio City and another four hours to Olongapo City. It will be da
rk soon and the roads are too dangerous to drive at night. Can you send the plane to pick us up and a driver to take the SUV back to Manila? I believe there’s a local airport that’s about two and a half hours away from here.”
THIRTEEN
The Spaniards first discovered Subic as a strategic military location, but it was the Americans who developed the thick-forested area southeast of the city of Olongapo into the biggest naval base outside the United States. The once-mighty fortress was where warships and nuclear-powered aircraft carriers were repaired for their seaworthiness. With the American lease on the land in limbo, combined with the destructive power of Mt. Pinatubo when it erupted, the place that the U.S. Navy called home for more than 60 years closed without much fanfare. At the end of 1992, the outpost that had become the symbol of American colonialism became history.
* * *
Rock and roll was seeping through the door at the front entrance of Paradise East when Danny and Helen arrived. The club was located in Magsaysay Drive—the main avenue slicing through the middle of Olongapo City and dividing the municipality into its eastern and western portions.
Danny pulled the large door handle. The putrid smell of cigarette smoke that clung to the walls and the stale stench of spilt beers on the linoleum floor greeted them. Danny coughed at the ghastly smell, and Helen covered her nose to prevent herself from gagging on the tobacco smell. The bouncer looked at them, raising his eyebrows.
“Twenty-five peso cover charge,” the bouncer said.
“We’re looking for Boy. Is he around?” Danny asked.
“You need to talk to him,” the bouncer said, pointing with his lips to the man behind the bar.
Danny was about to step forward but the bouncer placed his hand on his chest.
“I said twenty-five pesos. Are you deaf?”
Danny fished a hundred-peso bill from his pocket and placed it in the bouncer’s open hand.
On the way to the bar, Danny and Helen passed by the go-go dancers. Wearing long leather boots and bikini thongs, they swung their hips provocatively inside oversized birdcages with bored looks on their faces, entertaining tourists from Korea, Japan, Australia, and America. Danny looked to his right and noticed men of all ages sitting at the tables in the darkened part of the club, petite bar-girls with deep brown complexions and long, shiny hair sitting on their laps, chatting along with broken English.
Somewhere in the Shallow Sea: A Novel of Suspense Page 14
