by John Muir
CHAPTER 15
CHECKING, MEETING & EATING
MERCEDES, Camarines Norte.
Heidi began reading her separate instructions and directives. At the page of armaments for her group, she smiled with approval. As expected, her helpers would be armed with M16A2 semi-automatic rifles. It would seem strange toting an American weapon after years of handling Russian, Chinese or Czech AK47s or the newer AK74s as they technically were as the redesigned AK47. Familiarisation with American weapons had been the main part of her re-training over the last few weeks. She was not against the complex M16; it was just that it did not have the same hitting power of the AK 47. Bullets tended to be deflected too easily by leaves or a strong breeze. It also had advantages. It did not rust up like the AK 47, but it was only more reliable if maintenance was regular. The ammunition was also more reliable, but the AK47 or the newer AK74 was far easier to operate, and even rusty ones functioned.
The next item on the list was three M2HB 0.50 calibre heavy machine guns. The thought of having these three machine guns meant that she could really call on long range, heavy hitting, fire-power to counter most offshore aggression out to two or three kilometres.
The greatest pleasure was when she noted they had been allocated six Stinger anti-aircraft missiles and three shoulder-launchers. She had trained on these, as had some of the Filipinos sent to Libya. She just hoped she would have a chance to personally use one in a combat situation against an aircraft or boat. She preferred the Stinger to the Russian SA-7. The Stinger was a genuine forward hitting missile. It could hit an approaching aircraft if correctly guided, whereas the older SA-7 was a tail chaser. That meant any aircraft would have delivered its ordinance and flown past before the operator could lock on to the hot exhaust of a receding aircraft.
Three 15-round loaded magazines and one hundred additional rounds were available for each M16. This was enough to mount a major assault, yet they were only required to defend. With six drums of 100 rounds of belt-fed for each of the machine guns, they had enough for a major battle. Three rocket-propelled grenades (RPG’s) rounded out the armoury.
Twelve night vision glasses, twelve infra red starlight scopes and a good supply of parachute flares, meant that any night-time counter-attack could reasonably easily be seen and probably countered. Night glasses gave them a huge advantage over night-time activities of villagers or escape attempts by hostages.
There were four personal kits for the first four "tourists" on the island. These were for herself, Helmut, Aziz and Raji. She looked at the very silent Filipino garage owner.
"Where are the items listed?"
He looked with a shocked expression. "They'll all be delivered on the night when the bancas land."
Heidi glared at him.
"You know what I mean!"
"Oh yes. I do have something else to give you."
He got up and walked to one of the covered work-pits, pulled off the roofing iron covering it, and jumped in. Within seconds he had gently put four bags of the same size, but of different colours, onto the side of the pit.
"I nearly forget to give you these."
Heidi turned to Aziz.
"Aziz, what do you do to people who steal in your country?"
Thankfully Aziz guessed Heidi's ploy.
"It depends on what is stolen. If you steal a man's wife we would chop off the hands. But if you steal a man's sword then we would cut off his head."
The Filipino visibly shuddered.
"No, no, I really did forget. I'm sure I would've remembered before you left.
"Maybe you were going to make a small profit?"
"No, no. I give you my word."
"O.K. is there anything else which you might have forgotten. Remember, I have the detail here."
"Yes, yes, all the money's there, in Pesos. It's in the side pocket of the pink bag. It's all there, I haven't touched it."
Heidi was pleased she had played this charade. There had been no mention of money in her letter. The contact did not know that. He only knew there was money. In his mind he had probably already been thinking of ways he was going to spend it.
She grabbed the weighty pink bag, opened the side zip, and pulled out a wad of notes in one hundred and five hundred peso denominations. She split this into six equal piles, kept one and gave her five colleagues one each.
"Obviously this is for extra expenses. You, my little Filipino friend, I give you your life. Maybe you should thank Aziz. He is letting you keep your hands."
The Filipino still sat stiffly in his chair and although still wide-eyed with fear, his face showed some relief.
She passed the other three bags to their intended recipients.
"Please check their contents and see that we all have the same items, just in case there are other things our friend has forgotten about or accidentally removed."
The four began to take the items out to check them. The first cloth wrapped bundle Heidi removed contained the night glasses. She examined these carefully. She knew she would never get over her amazement as to how these worked. Apart from the wrap around goggle style eyepiece they were similar in shape to normal binoculars. The straps, like those of a diving mask, kept the glasses in place and the hands were free for other uses. Heidi put the goggles on and adjusted the straps for comfort. No matter how many times she put these on, she found the added weight to the front of her head put extra strain on her neck muscles.
She carefully re-wrapped them and checked the next cloth wrapping. The U.S. Army issue Walther P.K., complete with holster, three spare magazines and two boxes of .38 ammunition were enclosed. This had more kick than her beloved Beretta 951 pistol.
Next was the broken down M16, each of its parts carefully wrapped separately in oil rags and inside long plastic bags. Her model did not include a night-scope, but had the raised guide along the length of the barrel to assist snap shooting. Heidi assembled the M16 with practised ease. She quickly worked all the actions, with and without a magazine slotted in, and checked the gas setting. She felt pleased with the result. All the parts were enclosed and working.
Carefully disassembling it she re-wrapped all the parts in the oil rags. She opened the two hand-boxes of 5.56 mm cartridges to check all were enclosed and safe for transport. There were only two empty 15 round magazines, but this was only her interim supply. Inspection finished, she re-zipped the bag and looked at the others.
"Everything O.K?"
Helmut, Aziz and Raji nodded their agreement.
She looked now at the two Libyans. Although she despised the one she now knew as Mohammed, the other, Ali, had said nothing. As yet she had no sense of any attitude towards him at all.
"Ali, you and Mohammed will be given your kits when you are all assembled before the banca leaves for Apuao Grande. Check it to make sure nothing has been removed."
"Hey," responded Mohammed, "we're not used to being told by a woman, especially a Kraut woman, how to wipe our arses or check our kits."
Heidi again felt her anger rise then she saw the funny side to what he said. She wanted to reply that in Germany they used toilet paper instead of their hands. But she knew she could not react with sarcasm or threats. It was a time for a display of control and seniority. She paused to get her thoughts organised.
"Mohammed, it's like this. I have been involved in several operations commissioned by your Government. All those missions have been successful. I was even personally thanked by your wonderful leader, Moamar Gadaffi, before his death, for my successes in three of those missions. The personal meetings were all in Tripoli. If you have any complaints about me, then when you have your next personal meeting with his successors, pass them on. I will be doing the same when I return to Tripoli and I will be reporting about any further problems."
"Oh no, there's no problem," stammered Mohammed in reply. "It's all O.K., it's just that I'm not used to taking orders from a woman."
"Mohammed, don't think of me as a woman. Just think of me as another soldier."
M
ohammed bowed his head. Heidi immediately knew for now the problem had been overcome, for now. But she would have to watch him in the future.
----------
APUAO GRANDE, SAN MIGUEL BAY.
It sounded like a motor-mower through his half sleep and his anger began rising. Why the hell did they mow lawns so early in the morning? He was going to give the care-taker a tongue lashing. He sat up eyes still closed, and threw his legs over the side of the bed.
His feet immediately got caught up in something he presumed to be a loose sheet. Opening his eyes he realised the obstruction was the mosquito net. He was not home in Auckland but on holiday. The noise was the crescendo cicadas reached before sunrise and sunset. He had forgotten how loud they got. He sat on the side of the bed and smiled to himself.
"Damned cicadas." It was almost painful to the ears.
It took a few seconds for him to realise it was afternoon, not morning as he sleepily first thought. The cicadas always began their heightened noise simultaneously as if a switch had been thrown turning their noise to an amplified din. It was the suddenness that had woken him. Through the closed wooden typhoon slats over the window he could see it was getting dark; close to 5:30 p.m.
Malou was still sleeping oblivious to the noise and his movement.
He sneaked out from under the net and into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Walking past the lounge windows he suddenly remembered that there were still no curtains. Quickly returning to the bedroom he put on a sarong he had purchased in Bali a few years before. He ran the tap for a few minutes to ensure there was no rust in the long unused pipes; then filled the jug. When he switched on the fluorescent lights a couple were flickering. He would buy new starters tomorrow.
As the jug began boiling, Malou emerged from the bedroom, eye-lids barely parted and seemingly not balancing too well on her feet. She looked good with no clothes on. He loved that little naturally tanned body and the dark circles surrounding her nipples. Whether she was a freak of nature, or whether she was always ready for sex, he was not sure, but her nipples were always erect.
"Gee it's noisy," she said, rubbing her eyes.
"Yeah, that's what woke me too. Cuppa tea?" T.A. asked.
"I'm hungry."
"Yeah, me too, but do you want a cuppa?"
"No thanks."
She turned slowly to look around the room, noticed the uncurtained windows, squealed, and ran back to the bedroom.
T.A. grinned realising she too had forgotten there were no curtains. Within a couple of minutes she was back in the kitchen wearing loose fitting baggy longs and one of his t-shirts.
"Gee, you're thoughtless," she growled at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You forgot too eh?"
From the look on her face he knew better not to push it. If he did, she would go through one of her silent routines for a few hours. Perhaps he should have warned her, but he liked to see her in the nude.
He abandoned the idea of a cup of tea and looked at Malou. When she looked back he pursed his lips to point in the general direction of the restaurant. She nodded in agreement; then frowned in disapproval at his mimicking the common Filipino trait of lip pointing.
He put on his thongs, and applied roll-on insect repellent on his ankles and arms in the hope of some protection. He was already sweating from the heat. Grabbing his emptied money bag waist pouch, he put the house key and two pen-light torches inside, then, put on a loose fitting shirt. He caught Malou's eye and nodded to the doorway. He thought better of pursing his lips again. Malou nodded. T.A. noticed the large and thick black horned armour-plated rhinoceros beetles on the glass of the back door. There were lots of small things he had forgotten. These big half-palm size beetles were only one of those things. They just seemed to sit, never going anywhere from one day to the next.
T.A. clipped on his waist pouch and turned on the outside lights before he closed the door behind him. Then felt the soft pouch once more to make sure that the two pocket torches and the key were included. He was pleased Malou was not going to delay them with her usual long getting ready routine.
Malou, despite her submerged anger, still took his hand as they walked along the path to the restaurant.
The lights and sounds of the restaurant soon came to their eyes and ears as they began to make out the shapes within. They stopped outside and from the dark they could see the patrons without being seen themselves. There were still no familiar faces. T.A. and Malou stepped onto the concrete verge of the restaurant floor and entered. As they looked around some patrons looked at them.
They went to the U-shaped bar to re-establish the routine started on the previous visit. Finding two empty stools side by side they sat down.
"Beer?" asked one of the girls.
"No thanks, may I have a cold calamansi juice please," replied T.A.
He had developed a fetish for calamansi in the Philippines. It was one of the few drinks that kept him cool for a reasonable time when it was taken cold with ice. It helped reduce the amount of sweat that seemed to be forever on his forehead. He also appreciated the never ending efforts of Malou to wipe his forehead dry with tissues.
"And your lady?" asked the bar girl.
Malou responded, "Hot tea with calamansi please."
The girl proceeded to go about getting their order.
"Recognise anyone?" asked T.A.
"Not yet. Oh yes, the other bar girl was here last time, you must remember her?" she nodded down the other end of the bar.
T.A. looked. "No, doesn't ring any bells."
With that, the second girl came down to their end of the bar. Malou started to talk to her in one of their languages. The girl smiled as she talked with Malou, occasionally casting a glance at T.A. and giving a broader smile.
Malou and the girl talked animatedly for a few minutes, seemingly ignoring his presence apart from an occasional glance. After a time she was called away to another patron.
"Well?" questioned T.A.
"Yes," replied Malou.
"Yes what?"
"Yes she remembers us. Her name is Rosalee. Do you want me to get all her other details for you as well?"
"Oh shit, is it going to be like this all night?" asked T.A.
"She just asked if we were married yet."
"Ho, bloody ho. What did she really say?"
"Well, you wanted to know!"
T.A. realised that this was going to be another conversation that was going nowhere. Malou was definitely in an argumentative mood. He thought a change of subject would be a safer.
"I don't see any familiar faces among the guests, apart from some of those with us on the banca."
"No, I asked Rosalee if there was anyone here that she'd seen before. Only one couple has been here before. All the others are first timers."
T.A. looked in the direction of the white-board displaying the evening dinner menu. It was, as always, displayed near the kitchen serving counter at the opposite end of the lounge to the drinks bar.
"Do you want to eat yet?" he asked, hoping to calm the prospective storm.
"Did you come here to eat, or to look around at the other girls?" Malou responded coolly.
T.A. knew that there would not be a loud public display of whatever the anger was about. It was not the Filipino way generally, but he knew there was something brewing. Maybe it was just tiredness, but she had slept well on the bus, at the banca depot, and again this afternoon.
"Do you want to come over with me and have a closer look at the board?" T.A. moved off slowly without waiting. Malou followed and joined him in front of the menu board.
"Anything you fancy? I think I'm going to splash out and enjoy that lobster mornay."
She remained silent and turned and started talking to a kitchen hand. Again T.A. could not understand. He noticed the kitchen cook was the same person who had helped with their bags that morning. When he saw T.A. looking in his direction, he smiled and nodded his head. T.A. smiled back and raised his hand in mock salute
.
"What are you having?" T.A. asked.
"I've ordered mine."
"Aren't you going to wait for the waitress?"
"No, it's all right."
T.A. knew she was spoiling for an argument.
As they moved away from the board, T.A. looked for a spare table. One was unoccupied next to where the long legged woman from the banca was seated. As he approached, the woman's partner looked up.
"Hello," he said. "Settled in?"
"Yes," replied T.A., "and we caught up on a bit of sleep."
T.A. noticed that the man had an accent, but could not place where it was from.
"My name is Gunther," he offered his hand.
T.A. shook it and noticed he had a good strong grip.
"Just call me T.A., I hate the way people mispronounce my family name, it's a long story. This is my lady, Malou."
Gunther shook Malou's hand.
"This is my wife Diana, and the young man with us is Diana's son, Carlos," he replied.
T.A. shook both their hands.
"Perhaps you'd like to join us?" he asked.
T.A. looked at Malou. She showed no reaction at all.
"That would be nice, if we're not intruding," answered T.A.
"Not at all, we've already eaten."
T.A. grabbed an extra chair, and they seated themselves. The waitress was now standing at T.A.'s shoulder.
"Could I have the Lobster Mornay please? I think my lady has already ordered with chef at the kitchen."
The waitress nodded.
"Anything to drink?" she asked as she set out the cutlery.
"Another cold calamansi juice please, and," he paused as he looked toward Malou, "anything for you?" She just nodded in the negative.
"Just a calamansi for me thanks."
It really irked him when Malou pulled this equivalent of dumb insolence.
"How long are you here for?" asked Gunther.
"That depends on lots of things. We're not on any set timetable, so I guess the maximum time would be a month. More likely just a couple of weeks. What about you?"
"This is our third visit," replied Gunther, "We like it here. It's cheap and quiet away from all the noise where we live in Pasay."
T.A. noticed that Malou was ignoring everyone at the table to a point of rudeness. He hoped their hosts had not noticed and thought he had better break the ice.
"Where were you from originally, Diana?" asked T.A.
"From the Visayas."
At this he noticed a spark of interest from Malou.
"Where in the Visayas?" T.A. went on.
"Leyte, but we now live in Pasay in Metro-Manila when Gunther is home from his work overseas."
Suddenly Malou started to talk to Diana in what he presumed was Visayan. She knew that language would be common to them. Diana laughed. Within seconds they were chatting away.
T.A. looked at Gunther, shrugged. "I can't understand a word."
"I can speak some Tagalog and a bit less Visayan," he responded, "but can't understand when they're speaking so fast. They seem to be finding plenty to talk about. Di's normally fairly quiet and shy, unless she finds someone she really wants to talk to."
T.A. still could not figure out where Gunther's accent was from.
"The name Gunther; it's German isn't it?"
"Yes, but I'm from Denmark," replied Gunther.
"I've been trying to pick the accent, I'd never have guessed."
"It's been influenced a bit by my travels; it isn't as strong as it used to be."
"What sort of work are you doing?"
"I'm an engineer on oil rigs in the Persian Gulf. We have three months on and three months off. It's good money. I just fly back to the Philippines on the break. In that time Di and I can do what we want. What line are you in?"
"A bit of contract research work with the banks, Government, or private work if I can get it. Nothing exciting. Because it's on a contract basis I can take time off between contracts. How long are you here for?"
His question was interrupted by laughter from Malou and Di. Both, in unison, covered their mouths as they laughed. T.A. thought it unnecessary for both of them as they both had beautiful teeth. T.A. thought Di quite striking. She certainly had a nice body with shapely legs to match. Gunther seemed to be an open enough personality, but just as T.A. was looking at Di, Gunther was looking at Malou. “The grass always greener on the other side of the fence” thought T.A.
"We don't have any real time limit either," replied Gunther before he took a long swig on his bottle of San Miguel beer.
T.A. noticed Di look disapprovingly at Gunther, and guessed she thought he was either having too much to drink, or had already done so.
The waitress delivered Malou's order, something which T.A. did not recognise.
"We'll leave you both in peace to let you enjoy your meal uninterrupted," offered Gunther. With that they got up to leave.
"I hope we'll see you again," said T.A.
"Yes," replied Gunther, "the island isn't that large."
Malou carried on a final brief chatter with Di before they left.
The waitress delivered T.A.'s lobster. He was pleased to be alone. He could tuck into dinner without having to carry out polite conversation between bites.
"What do you call that?" T.A. asked Malou.
"Fish sinigang."
From her snapped reply T.A. knew she had switched off again. He did not care, the lobster was delicious. Between mouthfuls he glanced around the restaurant. He heard, before he noticed, a loud mouthed and semi-intoxicated skinny balding European male sitting on a stool at the bar. He was abusing a Filipino girl standing next to his stool. After a few minutes of verbal abuse, she turned and walked out of the restaurant.
"Seems like a charming bastard," T.A. said sarcastically.
Malou just ignored his comment as though she had heard nothing.
"And what the hell's wrong with you!"
"Nothing!" she snapped back.
T.A. was not going to push it here.
"Welcome to Swagman." The voice came from behind T.A. "I hear you're the people staying in the Brooke's house."
T.A. turned to see a tall and well built fair haired man with a friendly smile and face.
"I'm Ben, the manager. Sorry I wasn't at the banca when it arrived this morning. I'd taken a group out on an all day picnic to one of the other islands."
"I'm T.A., and this is Malou. We were here two years ago."
"I thought the face was familiar. I'll let you finish your meal, but let me know if there's anything you want or need. The staffs pretty good so they'll help if they can."
"Thanks, no doubt we'll catch you later."
With that Ben departed, T.A. looked at Malou.
"He seems friendly."
Malou just looked at T.A. and said nothing.
Malou's attitude was almost ruining his appetite for the lobster. He took another mouthful anyway. No, her mood was not going to put him off. It tasted good. Two could play the silent game, and he would play it too until Malou got tired of it and exploded into one of her rages as she would do when they were alone.
Dinner finished without further interruption, not even from Malou. After the waitress cleared away the plates, he signalled to the bar and ordered a double whisky with a San Miguel beer to follow. As Rose from the bar was delivering the drinks, the abusive male at the bar stood up, stumbled over the stool behind him, and swore unintelligibly. T.A. thought it was probably just as well he was so drunk. Even his swear words were mumbled. He lurched out of the open front of the restaurant. T.A. was hoping that he did not have violence toward his girlfriend on his mind.
"Who's your drunken friend?" T.A. asked Rosalee as she put the drinks down.
"That's Graham, he lives on the island and gets drunk every night."
"I hope his girlfriend is going to be all right."
"Oh yes. He’s all talk and completely harmless. He'll be back in a few minutes. She always loc
ks him out of the room. He then comes back here and drinks some more. After a while he gets so drunk he can't even walk. Once he's at that stage we go over to get his girlfriend, Adela, and she comes and gets him. He just falls asleep as soon as he gets back to the hut. When he's sober he's a really nice man."
Malou spoke briefly in Tagalog or Visayan to Rose before Rose returned to the bar.
T.A. enjoyed sipping his whisky and wondered if Malou had even noticed his silence. The tall chubby rusty-haired man with his matronly partner entered the restaurant. His cheeks seemed to be even redder than they were that morning. Perhaps, thought T.A., it was not drink but high blood pressure. T.A. watched him pull out a stool at the bar for his girlfriend before he sat down himself. “At least he is a gentleman in some areas,” thought T.A.
He watched the big man down two small bottles of San Miguel beer in less than two minutes. At the finish of the second beer, his lady went to the end of the bar and got a small basket of salted peanuts and placed it in front of her man. As she sat down again beside him, T.A. noticed the big guy gently pat her on the thigh in thanks. Then leaned over and whispered something in her ear. In response she got up and walked over to study the menu board. As she passed he looked at her face and felt his earlier guess at her character was probably right. She definitely looked as though she was a caring matronly sort, and probably enjoyed giving motherly care to her partner.
She was not a fat matronly type, better described as solidly built. Quite a soft, slightly plain but still attractive face with almost all of the common Filipino features. T.A. instinctively felt she was nice. He just hoped that her ruddy-faced partner appreciated her good features.
T.A. watched her study the menu board for a few minutes. She sought out the waitress and then returned to the bar and her partner. In that time, her partner had finished his third stubby. She signalled to the barmaid for a fourth and put it in the polystyrene container, placing it in front of her man, next to his hand. The big man slid his giant hand the few inches and encompassed her smaller one inside his with obvious affection. Looking at their backs sitting side by side on the bar stools caused T.A. to grin. The big guy seemed at least twice her width, and would certainly have been more than twice her weight. His rear end far exceeded the width of the stool on which he sat. Hers was not small either and more than fully covered the stool. There was a Filipino male sitting three stools away. From that, T.A. was able to compare and see that the big fella's woman was broader than most Filipino men, yet carried it naturally. The big guy's weight and width were not the only features to attract attention. He was above average height which T.A. guessed at about six foot two. His size was imposing. Even though she was perhaps around five foot two they somehow seemed a perfect match.
"Anything else to drink?"
It was Rosalee at his elbow. She had snapped T.A. out of his daydream. Malou was still playing the silent game, he did not mind, he had been able to be with his own thoughts for a while.
"No thanks, but when we leave I'll take some things back to the house for later."
"I'll be at the bar until about 11:00P.M."
"Thanks, I'll see you later then."
T.A. continued his search for familiar faces. He spotted one at a table with Ben the manager. It was Pater, one of the island ex-pats. His house was on the same side of the trailer path as the Brooke house but at the far end of the row of houses. All T.A. could remember was he had been told Pater was an engineer that undertook assignments in various unappealing parts of the world that were highly paid because of the risk factors. Though T.A. had met him briefly on their first visit, then again on the second, on both occasions it was just before Pater was called away for some new assignment. He could remember Pater was a reservoir of general knowledge and tall stories, and a seemingly limitless supply of jokes. He was good company. T.A. thought it unlikely that Pater would remember him from the hundreds of tourists that visited the island each year.
At the pool table was another ex-pat he thought of as Mr. Banana, because of the way he was slouched over. His real name was Bob, a semi-retired builder and unofficial handyman for the Swagman Resort. T.A. had never seen him sober in the evenings. He always dragged himself off to bed around 11:30P.M. in a drunken state, then, managed to rise around 6:30A.M. each morning with a clear head. He would finish his repairs or odd jobs by mid morning, then disappear until around 6:30P.M., when he would reappear at the bar already semi-intoxicated. Despite his daily state, outwardly at least, his health had not deteriorated. He looked no different now to what he looked to T.A. when he first met him six years ago. T.A. marvelled at the fact that no matter how drunk, Bob seemed he was always deadly on the pool table.
"Do you wanna see a video?" T.A. asked Malou.
Malou shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, let's see what's happening in the T.V. room."
They got up and made their way past the kitchen and reception desk to the T.V. lounge-room to see someone else had just started watching “The Hunt for Red October.”
"Have you seen this? It's an oldie but a goodie."
She shrugged again.
T.A. remembered that Malou was a fan of Sean Connery.
"It's got a boyfriend of yours in it."
As he said that, a close up of a fur capped Connery standing on the bridge of a submarine flashed on the screen.
"Oh yes," she said suddenly activated. "We'll watch this."
They found a seat and settled down to watch. Malou's mood had instantly changed for the better.