“Rifles?” he hissed when he saw her. “I suspected there was more to this little venture of yours than getting rich. You’re working with the guerrillas, aren’t you?”
“Shhh!” Gina said, afraid a deliveryman could be close enough to hear Julio. “These are for our protection.”
“So you say. Just what else do you have stashed in that hidden closet upstairs? Whatever it is, I could help, but noooo, you don’t trust me, do you?” He thumped his chest with his fist. “Me!” He started to pace.
Gina had seen Julio flying high and deep in depression, but she’d never seen him angry . . . or was it hurt at her distrust? “You’re not exactly the Rock of Gibraltar, you know. Half the time you’re strung out on drugs. Where do you get all those pills? From the Japs?”
“What difference does it make? I hate them as much as you do. I deal with it in my way.” He stopped pacing and faced her. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No. Don’t leave. You’re too important here.” She lit a cigarette to buy time to think of what to say. She decided to tell the truth. “It’s why I came to Manila. To raise money for a small band of guerrillas . . . my friends. If you tell anyone that, we’ll all go down . . . including you. You’re more involved than you realize.”
“So a little blackmail’s not beneath you?”
She shrugged. “Whatever it takes. Now that you know, I could use your help. Admiral Tanaka will be here this afternoon, and this stuff needs to be put out of sight. It will be gone in a couple of days.”
Julio’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had flared. “Just tell me what you want done, boss.” He helped her carry the contraband to the hidden closet.
Trusting Julio was risky, but what choice did she have? She had been caught red handed. Best to draw him close. She hoped she wasn’t wrong.
Chapter 23
THE UNDERGROUND
In this subhuman existence, illusions of my favorite foods force their ways into my thoughts, an unwanted and cruel torment.
—Ray Thorpe, Cabanatuan prison camp, October 1942–January 1944
Gina woke up with a headache and in a foul mood. She had dreamed that she was reunited with Cheryl, but the child had rejected her and run away screaming that she wanted her real mom. Gina took an aspirin and drank a cup of strong coffee, but it didn’t help her achy head. The telephone rang. It was Franca.
“I didn’t wake you up, did I? I tried your office phone, but you didn’t answer.”
“Sorry, I’m slow getting started this morning. Today’s Cheryl’s birthday.”
“Oh, Gina. I’m sorry. You want to be with her. When my boys grew up and left home, those first few birthdays were hard for me to get through. It must be even harder with a small child. I called to invite you to lunch. Why don’t you come. It will do you good to get away from Pearl Blue for a couple hours.”
Gina didn’t even feel like getting dressed, much less going out to lunch. “I don’t know . . .”
“Please come. I have something I want to talk to you about.”
“Can you tell me over the phone?”
“No. What I have to say is for your ears only. Please . . . come at noon.”
Gina rubbed the spot that hurt between her eyebrows with her fingertips. “All right, at noon.” Franca had a way of making an invitation sound like a summons.
By the time Gina arrived at Franca’s, her headache was gone, but she still felt blue. Franca handed her a gift wrapped in birthday paper and with a big red bow. “It’s one of my favorite books, Heidi, by Johanna Spyri. I’ve read it at least a half dozen times over the years.”
“Cheryl will love this. Thank you. There are few books in the mountain camp, and she loves to be read to. Vivian says she’s starting to read by herself.”
Franca took Gina’s arm. “Let’s walk in the garden. I had Millie make up her special chicken soup for you, and it should be ready in a bit. There’s nothing like it to soothe a soul.” She led Gina outside, where beautifully tended lilies, beds of fragrant jasmine, and bunches of white plumeria edged the crushed-stone path. They walked past the waterfall and stopped at the grotto that held a statue of the Blessed Virgin. Franca said, “What I have to tell you has to do with the well-being of our prisoners.”
Gina came to attention. “Have you heard something about Ray?”
“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t. But this could have an impact on him. The doctors are running a smuggling operation out of Remedios Hospital. It started several months ago. One of our drivers noticed that ambulances leaving the Camp O’Donnell prison were searched, while strangely enough, ambulances going into the prison camp were not. We’ve sent in meds, money, and food that way. I keep waiting for the operation to blow apart. It’s too easy.”
Gina was surprised all that was going on right under her nose but wondered what it had to do with Ray.
“The issue is,” Franca said, “O’Donnell is closing, and the prisoners are being transferred to Cabanatuan prison camp. Isn’t that where Ray is?”
“I haven’t heard anything officially, but the men captured on Corregidor were taken there, so probably.”
Franca gestured for Gina to sit on a bench under a magnificent bani tree, its canopy spreading a wide twenty-five meters. It was cooler in the shade. Franca said, “The doctors and I, and some others involved, want to continue supporting the prisoners, but it’s going to be trickier smuggling supplies and medicines into Cabanatuan. I’ve contacted a resistance worker in Cabanatuan City. She says she knows you. Her name is Clara Jacob.”
“Clara! She’s the nurse who found Davy by the side of the road in the mountains. She brought him to our camp and nursed him back to health. Last I knew is she had applied for a job with the Red Cross in Cabanatuan City. I like Clara. I’ve wondered what happened to her.”
“She’s going to be in Manila next week, and she asked to see you. I’ve arranged a meeting with her and a few other people in the resistance. I’d like you to come too.”
Franca had caught Gina’s attention. She wanted to know more about the plan to smuggle supplies into Cabanatuan and maybe to Ray, but she cautiously hung back. “Who are these people? Can you give me names?”
“Not until you commit. You’ll have to trust me. I can tell you it’s a handpicked group.”
Gina wasn’t surprised. Names were obscured and jealously held. “I need some time to think about this. Other people will be impacted.”
“Of course. I know it’s not an easy decision. Come—I see Millie is signaling that lunch is ready.”
The more Gina thought about Franca’s invitation to meet with a small group of resistance workers hoping to penetrate Cabanatuan prison camp, the more she was inclined to say yes. Ray might be there or held in some other loathsome camp, and also it was her chance to meet like-minded people willing to work for a cause. When back at Pearl Blue, she called Inez and Arielle into her office and told them about O’Donnell prison camp closing and the Manila resistance moving into Cabanatuan. “Right now, only a handful of people know Pearl Blue’s true mission. If I get involved with this larger group, it puts us at higher risk of being detected.”
Arielle’s foot tapped in the air. “I don’t care about risk. My husband’s in Cabanatuan. It’s what I’ve been hoping and praying for. I’ll do anything I can to help.”
Inez paced in front of Gina’s desk. “Cabanatuan. That’s big time. Do you know what you’ll be doing?”
“Not yet. I’ll find out at the meeting.”
“Do you trust these people you’ll be working with?”
“I’d trust my life to the organizers, and I was told it’s a handpicked group. As soon as I commit, I’ll find out more.”
“I had friends who were in O’Donnell. Their stories are brutal. I trust your instincts, Gina. Find out more, and if you feel comfortable with it, I’m in too.”
Gina felt the relief of having decided, and when Inez and Arielle left her office, she called Franca on the phone. “I’ve covered s
ome bases here. I’ll come to the meeting. Tell Clara I’m looking forward to seeing her.”
“I thought so. Come prepared to introduce yourself. You’ll need a code name.”
Gina sensed she was about to enter a world where nothing was what it seemed to be. She bent down to pet Aleo the Cat, who was slinking around her ankles. “Kitty,” she said to Franca. “My code name is Kitty.” There was a knock on her door. It was Arielle.
“Gina, there’s a man here to see you.”
Gina put her hand over the receiver. “Do you know who it is?”
“I’ve never seen him before. He looks sort of scruffy.”
“All right. I’ll meet him in the Jasmine Room. Tell Ling to stay close by.” She returned her attention to Franca. “Gotta go. Someone’s here to see me.”
Gina met the scruffy man in the Jasmine Room. “I’m Signora Aleo, and you are?”
“Lieutenant Francis Willard, United States Army, ma’am.” He spoke with a tinge of a drawl and kept his voice barely above a whisper. “Father Morgan sent me. I got separated from my unit. I want to go to the mountains and join the guerrillas, but I need help getting out of Manila.”
Gina scanned the man’s face, thinking he looked too young to be a lieutenant, but maybe he was exaggerating his rank to impress her. His wide-set eyes, light coloring, and lanky build reminded her of a younger Ray. She felt a pang of longing. “Why do you think I could help you?”
“Father Morgan said you could put me in touch with someone who could get me past Major McGowan’s security.” His gaze shifted to the window and quickly back. “It would help a lot if you wrote me a letter of introduction.”
Gina doubted Father Morgan’s involvement. She scrutinized his face and his manner. He looked and sounded like an American soldier, and there were hundreds living in hiding in Manila. Still, she remained cautious. “I don’t have any idea who Major McGowan is. I don’t know where Father Morgan got that idea.”
Willard’s face fell. “I understand . . . me walking in off the street and everything. One has to be extra careful these days. But if you could spare a few pesos so I could get a haircut, and maybe your husband has an extra suit of clothes I could have. I’m too visible on the street like this.” He pointed to his army pants. “It’s all I have to wear.”
Gina wavered. The request was meager, and his story might be true. She thought of Ray in need of kindness and being rejected, and her hand went to her pocket where she kept a few pesos. But then a jerk of his glance out the window again stopped her action. Scowling, she took a step back. “Who do you take me for, and what makes you think I’ll give you anything? Get out of here!” She shooed him away with a flail of her arm.
Surprise crossed his face and then anger. He stepped toward her, his jaw clenched.
Gina backed away quickly, her steps jerky. She put a chair between herself and him. “Get out,” she hissed.
“Bitch. You’ll get yours.” Sneering, he opened the door and left.
Gina heard Ling’s voice coming from the dining room, and she hurried to where he was talking with Inez. “Ling. Follow that guy. Don’t let him see you.”
Ling wasn’t gone long, and his report gave Gina the jitters. Willard had gone straight to a Kempei waiting on the corner. Realizing how easily she had nearly been duped by a man with a handsome face made Gina weak kneed. She slumped in the closest chair, ruminating on what she had done to attract the Kempeitai’s unwanted attention. And now Franca was asking her to increase her exposure.
With more than a little trepidation, Gina arrived at Franca’s the following week to meet with a faction of Manila’s giant underground. She saw only Father Morgan’s vehicle parked in the driveway and wondered if she was one of the first to arrive. She lifted her chin and rang the doorbell.
Millie led her to the dining room, where drinks and canapés were on the buffet. About a dozen people—Filipinos, Spanish, Chinese, and Europeans—were dressed in business attire and sipping cocktails. Gina did a double take and inwardly groaned. Standing in profile by the fireplace was Armin Gable, who not only had turned down her request to sponsor Davy McGowan but had chased her, shamefaced, from his house. By the looks on their faces and adversarial stances, he was arguing with Franca. When he saw Gina, he frowned and turned his back.
Gina slunk to the buffet and selected a drink before approaching Father Morgan. “Do you know everyone here?” she whispered.
“Yes, we’ve become a close-knit group. Many are native to the Philippines; some are socially prominent, others politically connected. All have a unique skill. We work toward one goal—to aid the prisoners in the camps. We seldom meet as a group; it’s too dangerous. But we’re taking a new direction, and we need a new strategy.”
Gina discreetly nodded toward the fireplace. “Can you tell me about him?”
“That’s Armin Gable. He’s a retired banker from Zurich. He’s an interesting fellow. During the last war, he interrogated deserters who’d crossed the border into Switzerland. He can spot an imposter a mile away, a valuable talent to us.”
Gina almost spilled her drink. An interrogator. She should have guessed. Given his low opinion of her, she wondered whether he had vetoed her inclusion in the group.
Father Morgan glanced at Gina’s scowl. “Everyone is here by invitation. We welcome you as a worthy resource to our mission, Gina.”
Gina shrank inside. He’d guessed what she was thinking; there must have been a discussion of her shortcomings. Across the room she saw Clara Jacob. “Excuse me, Father. I know her. I’d like to say hello.”
Just then Franca clapped her hands. “I know you’re all busy people, so please take a seat at the table, and we’ll get started.”
Once all were settled, Franca addressed the group and reiterated the purpose for coming together—to set up a collaborative effort with the resistance in Cabanatuan City to aid imprisoned soldiers. She gestured to her right. “Clara Jacob is here representing the network. She’ll tell us about the tight security at the Cabanatuan prison camp and what her group is doing to work around it. Not to state the obvious, but who is in attendance and what is said today does not leave this room.
“Before we start, we have some new members, so let’s go around the table and introduce ourselves. I’ll start: I’m Señora Franca Estevez; call me Franca. I’m the go-to person. If you have a problem or a question, come to me. If I can’t help you myself, I’ll direct you to someone who can. My code name is Butterfly. Please use it whenever you contact me.” She nodded to Gina.
With every eye on her, warmth rose to Gina’s face. “Angelina Aleo; I go by Gina. I’m honored to be invited to join this group. I’m the owner of Pearl Blue, a nightclub. I’m not sure why I am here yet. My code name is Kitty.”
“I might add,” Franca said, “if you haven’t been to Pearl Blue on Friday or Saturday nights, you must go. The floor show is spectacular.” She gestured to Father Morgan.
“Father Brady Morgan, priest and chief scrounger. The garage at Malate Church is available to store supplies you gather until they can be delivered to Cabanatuan. There are many problems to be worked out, but we’re up to the challenge. Written and phone messages should come to True Heart.”
“Dr. Hernandez Lopez. I’m on call for all medical issues. I procure medical supplies and some drugs through the Remedios Hospital accounts. Call me Loopy.” He nodded to the woman sitting next to him.
“Hi, and welcome to our new members. My name is Jean Caffey. I’ve been providing interest-free loans to prisoners at Camp O’Donnell. I hope to continue to do so at Cabanatuan. I accept IOUs written on any scrap of paper the prisoner has at his disposal. Levi is my code name.”
Gina pondered the code name: Jean . . . Levi, easy to remember. She glanced askance at Armin Gable, the next one to speak.
He cleared his throat. “Armin Gable. I beg my wealthy Italian, Swiss, and Chinese contacts for money. No more needs to be said. You can call me Bashful.”
Gina swall
owed a guffaw. She could think of a dozen other code names more fitting, like Bully or Tyrant, though she had to admit he had been right at the time: she hadn’t been ready to take on the task assigned to her . . . and maybe, according to his standards, she still wasn’t.
Franca said, “Armin’s contacts have been very generous. We hope that continues.” She nodded to a younger man next to Mr. Gable.
“Luhan Jonesy. Reporter and photographer for the Philippine Free Press by day, and author of the underground newsletter the Candor by night. We got the Candor into Camp O’Donnell. I hope we can get copies into Cabanatuan. As always, if any of you have information suitable or unsuitable for print, contact me. My code name is Clark, as in Clark Kent.”
Gina recognized Jonesy. He’d taken pictures at Pearl Blue’s grand opening night. So he was the author of the Candor, a one-page rag sometimes left behind the bar at Pearl Blue reporting Japanese and Allied movements, skirmishes, arrests and releases, rumors, and atrocities meted out by the Kempeitai. She wondered if Eddie, her bartender, was involved with Jonesy and if the Candor was sent to the guerrillas. Davy could use the information the sheet reported. She made a mental note to contact Jonesy.
“I’m Mrs. Hahn. I offer shelter to anyone who needs to be hidden for a few days. I’m an artist, and my husband is a chemist and a genius with dyes. Between the two of us, we forge credible documents. My code name is Belle.”
“Freddie Sulet, accountant. Like Bashful, I have access to foreign funds. Slapstick.”
“Rinaldo Torio, enforcer. I’m new to the group. Call me if you’re in a jam. Bull.”
Enforcer! And the guy was built like a bull. Gina crossed her arms over her body, hoping she never had to use his services. The aura of the group suddenly took on a darker quality.
“Bai Guang, pharmacist, Teddy Bear. I find drugs for you to send to prisoners. Price is higher, but most I still can find.”
So that was how Dr. Lopez was able to send quinine to Davy, even though the Japanese had blocked its shipment. This meeting was bringing some things into focus for Gina. She hadn’t been working alone but had been navigating the periphery of this larger group.
Along the Broken Bay Page 22