Just Cause Wrong Target

by John Muir

CHAPTER 25

  REALISATION

  Iligan - Day 5

  Pater had told his group what to look for. He did not know how long they would have to wait. Staying in groups would be of little use, he had to spread his resources as wide as possible, close, but not too close to the front of the newspaper offices.If anyone saw clothing or a parcel being given to a child and money change hands, then the observer had to try and get the attention of at least one of the others, then try and follow the suspect without attracting attention to themselves.

  Pater confidence in the abilities of all, but Henry and Rangi, was low.

  He knew that the longer the wait was, the less would be the enthusiasm of the others. But wait they must. It was perhaps their best chance, if not their only chance.

  ----------

  near Linamon - Day 5

  Salim was pleased and annoyed at the same time. He was pleased because at least the reporter seemed to have taken the lead in getting the ransom money. He was annoyed because he had to go back to Linamon to get the Japanese' suit.

  At least them wanting evidence that he was holding the Japanese was positive. Who had wanted the evidence? The company, or the reporter? So far, the company hardly seemed interested. Maybe they did not believe he was holding Yamada.

  Salim forced open the jammed door of his house and ran up the noisy steps.

  The two girls jumped up in fright at the sudden noise. Their faces expressed surprise at seeing their Father. Omar came rushing out of the bedroom to see what was happening.

  "I wasn't expecting to see you back already," said Omar.

  "They want proof we're holding that animal. I feel like cutting off his head to give them proof. That'd be the best evidence."

  "What do they want?"

  "His clothes. Has he woken up yet?"

  "Just flickering in the eyes."

  Salim turned on the girls. "Where did you put those clothes."

  Siti quickly picked up a tied plastic bag from the floor and gave it to her Father. Salim undid the knot and opened the bag.

  "Wow, what a stink." Salim decided it would easier to sell the trousers. He pulled those out of the bag, threw them at Siti, retied the bag with the jacket inside, and left carrying it.

  Omar, Siti and Zahra all looked at each other, then, looked skywards. They were all relieved that Salim had not checked the bedroom.

  Omar returned through the curtains without even glancing at the figure lying on the tarpaulin. His mind was fixed on carrying on with his work.

  The unexpected voice startled him.

  "Visitors?"

  He looked at the stranger.

  "Yes. They've gone already." The stranger's English was so clear. Definitely no American accent.

  "Why am I chained like this?"

  Omar approached close to the stranger and crouched. He was close enough to give the feeling of intimacy, but far enough away to move quickly if the stranger made a sudden lunge for him.

  "Do you know who you are yet?"

  Again he watched the stranger screw up his face and put his free hand to his forehead.

  "I can't think. I know I know, I just can't remember it at the moment."

  "Is your name Ken Yamada?"

  "Yamada's a Japanese name."

  "I know."

  "I know I'm not Japanese. Looking at you, and listening to the way you talk, you're a Filipino. But where in the Philippines am I?"

  "Don't you remember anything?"

  "I've been trying. I presume I am in the Philippines, you are Filipino, I can see coconut trees through the window and I've heard some fighting cocks. Why won't you tell me anything?"

  Omar changed from a crouch to a sitting position. He felt secure enough that he was not going to be attacked.

  "If only you could remember something, then I could tell you much more."

  The stranger looked at him blankly.

  "What sport do you play? Omar asked."

  "None now, I used to play rugby, that was years ago though. That's rugby union, not rugby league."

  "What's rugby?"

  "Why did I remember that when I still can't even remember my name?"

  "Who are your favourite teams?"

  "The All Blacks and the Wallabies."

  "I haven't heard of them. They're not basketball or baseball teams."

  "No. The All Blacks are the New Zealand national rugby team and the Wallabies are the Australian national team."

  "Are you married?"

  "I don't think so."

  Omar grinned. "Did you come here to get a Filipino wife?"

  "No. Yes. No. I seem to remember meeting someone, but not this time. It was before I think. Where is my money belt? I'm sure there is something in there that'll identify me."

  Omar got up and stuck his head out through the curtains. He spoke in Maranao to ask the girls about the money belt. They both nodded in the negative. He returned to the stranger's side again.

  "What was in the money belt?"

  "Money I think, and credit cards."

  "Why did you need them?"

  "I was going to buy something. I just can't remember what."

  "You told me before that you had children. How many?

  "Yes, I do." There was a long pause again. "God, I can't remember. That was when I was married."

  "Why? Aren't you married anymore?"

  "I don't know."

  The stranger put his free hand to his head again.

  "I'm getting this headache again."

  "Can you eat some more, then perhaps you'd better sleep again." Omar called out to Siti. She entered the room less than a minute later with a small plate of fish and rice and a spoon that had been bent wildly out of shape.

  With a little difficulty, the stranger sat up. The arm and leg chains restricted his movement sideways.

  Siti was feeding the stranger as though she was spoon feeding a baby, wiping his chin after each mouthful.

  Omar watched as the stranger took each mouthful, occasionally wincing in pain at something or other.

  "What's wrong?"

  "My jaw is sore and I think my tongue must be cut. Sometimes I can feel cuts inside my mouth too. Do you have any disprin or codeine."

  "No."

  The stranger kept rubbing his forehead between mouthfuls. With the plate still half full, and just before Siti was about to insert another spoonful, his eyes began to lose focus and he passed out, collapsing back toward the floor. Siti dropped the plate and spoon and managed to catch him, then eased the stranger's head slowly onto the pillow she had made.

  Omar nodded to Siti. She quickly cleaned the mess off the floor and left the room.

  Omar continued the scoring on the windscreens, though with a little more pressure as he now had a slight indentation to guide the knife. While he was scoring deeper into the glass he started to wonder who might have taken the stranger's money belt. If he could find it, it might answer the questions that had been troubling him.

  ----------

  Iligan - Day 5

  Pater stood with Marivic and passed the time with small talk while they watched the approaches to the doors of the newspaper office. Because of his being 'Americano', he elected to keep Marivic with him as an aid to reduce the attention grabbing demands of street hawkers. Though he had noticed they were fewer in number in Mindanao.

  They had been waiting and watching nearly two hours. It was almost two and a half since the phone call.

  Pater began to worry that perhaps he was standing in a no reception area for his mobile phone. He checked it. The indicator showed he was getting a strong signal.

  Obviously the reporter had neither heard from the kidnappers nor received any clothing as evidence. He was not sure whether the kidnapper had become suspicious for some reason, and had not shown up.

  He wanted to tell the reporter to pass on the message to advise the kidnappers that a Father O'Reilly had been sent from Manila to help in the negotiation. But he did not want to tie up the line in
case the kidnapper called. He would wait until the clothes had been delivered. He was sure that soon after that, the kidnapper would phone.

  He pulled Marivic out of the way of a dirty little urchin running between the pedestrians while swinging an equally dirty plastic bag. Seemingly without looking, the child ran across the road dodging the traffic as though he was playing a game. Pater wondered how any parent could let a seven or eight year old run around like that. He judged from the dirt on the legs and face that perhaps the child was a street orphan anyway.

  When he saw the child make a beeline for the front door of the newspaper office, he swore silently to himself. The child pushed open the door and went in. Within seconds, he was out again, without the plastic bag. He had not hung around to be asked questions, and was running as fast as his skinny legs could carry him in the direction away from Pater.

  The mobile phone on his hip rang. Several people nearby looked at him immediately it rang. Mobile phones were still a novelty in this area. Pater pushed the answer button and put the phone to his ear.

  "Yes?"

  "Ruben Consuelo here. A kid just dropped off a plastic bag containing a jacket. No note or anything, just a dirty jacket."

  "If the kidnapper calls, tell him a Father O'Reilly has been sent from Manila to negotiate the payment of the ransom and the release. I'll check to see if anyone spotted anything. Then I'll come in and look at the jacket."

  "I hope you've got a strong stomach, it stinks,"

  Pater soon gathered in Henry and Rangi, and within minutes they had circulated nearby. Everyone was accounted for, nobody was following any suspects and nobody had seen anything unusual.

  With Marivic, Nilo, Henry and Rangi standing next to him he gritted his teeth and quietly said, "Shit, shit, shit."

  His nearby group remained silent.

  "I'm going into the newspaper office for a short time. Hang around. We'll go back to the hotel as soon as I've talked with Consuelo.

  When Pater undid the retied plastic bag and pulled the jacket out, he understood why the reporter had quickly tied it up again. Even the policeman standing behind Consuelo still had his face screwed up.

  "Jesus, this is the same colour as.......," Pater stopped quickly, realising that he nearly disclosed too much information. He quickly checked the pockets, inside and out. Finally, he re-checked the top chest pocket and touched something. Extracting it, he saw there were five or six personal business cards, damp and blood soaked. They gave T.A.’s New Zealand and Australian details. He slipped those into his own pocket when he was not being watched.

  “As dirty as it is, it's the same colour as the guard at the VIP said. The bastards have got Yamada alright."

  His real thoughts wondered how badly T.A. was injured. Obviously the clothes proved a loss of bladder control, and he know that only happened with death on deep concussion. But which was it?

  Pater went on, "It does smell a bit. Stale urine. But what worries me is all this blood. Not too much, but enough to show there has been some violence. I hope the poor bugger is O.K."

  "What do you want me to do?" asked the reporter.

  "The Father O'Reilly bit as I mentioned. Then say you have to contact Yamada's office for instructions, and for them to send someone to identify the jacket as Yamada's. But you are now worried that Yamada might already be dead because of all the blood on the jacket. Get the picture?"

  "Right, I can play that."

  Pater thanked him again, and made his way to the jeepney for the return trip to the hotel. Rangi and Henry looked at him questioningly.

  "Yeah. They've definitely got T.A."

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