by John Muir
CHAPTER 35
THE TROJAN HORSE
APUAO GRANDE
"Get the radio transmitter from the beach and set it up here. The ridge would be better, but with the power on I’m enjoying the fan. Our transmit time is 6:30P.M.," Heidi said to Domingo.
"Yes Ma'am."
"We promised the hostages some mattresses and stuff. Might as well give them some comfort. It might be another couple of nights before we all pull out. Go to the tennis court. I want you to organise some escorted hostages to collect the stuff from the houses. Then pick up the radio. Tonight, the irregulars will be sent home. We'll organise how when you get back."
The house Heidi was in was the closest to the beach of those on the seaward side of the trail. It was on the same side and only three houses away from the Simpson house where the staff hostages were being held by Raji's group.
Though the non-regulars' departure would halve her manpower, the main task of controlling the hostages had been achieved. It was now only a matter of retaining control until the next stage of the shrinking withdrawal took place. Perhaps she could let some of the regulars leave before sunrise as well.
Heidi looked at Domingo. He had kept his mask on despite the fact that Heidi had removed hers. Four others had removed theirs at Heidi's offer to them to do so. As Heidi viewed the unmasked faces she noted the youthful look of the men. Many had moustaches, but even that did not age them. It amazed Heidi, from the first time she had begun training with the Filipinos in Libya, that they all looked so young. It was only after talking with them that she realised that their youthful looks all hid older ages. She had overcome the age guessing game by adding six to ten years to her first guess. Then she found she was more accurate. Though there were no women in her group, she suspected that, as well as Lorna, there were other women in some of the other groups. She guessed that from their walk. Either that or they were effeminate males
She, and those who had removed their masks, speedily replaced them whenever any other guerillas outside their immediate group passed by.
Domingo signalled two other guerillas to accompany him. Heidi watched as they replaced their masks, and grinned at the flip flop sound of their thongs as they walked out, M16's cradled at the ready. The irregulars were wearing shorts. The regulars were wearing assorted colours of long track suit pants.
Heidi continued to sit in the armchair looking through the panorama window. Most of the bay was visible. The window was heavily tinted and occupants were invisible to external view during the day. Heidi wondered how effective the tinting would be at night if the inside of the house was lit.
Perhaps next year, she would return to the Philippines for a proper holiday. But to a different resort though. The memory of the faces of the old man and the little girl would taint her enjoyment.
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All the hostages in the tennis court were feeling the effects of the sun heating the court's surface. Although the sun had past being directly overhead for the day, its effect was delayed to the early afternoon. Now, in mid-afternoon, it was beginning to be fully felt. As all the watches had been confiscated, most expatriates were guessing time around 2:00P.M.
T.A. felt the nerves in his stomach tighten in anticipation when he saw the approach of three guerillas to the gate of the tennis court. They stopped outside and started to speak with the court guards. One guerilla jogged off to the restaurant and within minutes had returned with five others.
T.A. was pleased to notice that some of his co-hostages had also anticipated the next move and began to mill around T.A., the skinny boy and his father. Umbrellas were being opened and waved around to further attract attention away from the ruse.
One guard slung his M16 over his back, opened the gate and clapped his hands in school teacher fashion to get attention. The others stood with weapons aimed at the hostages.
"We want you to feel comfortable," he announced.
Boos and hisses followed his statement.
"Some of you can collect bedding from the houses."
Muffled approving voices went through the hostages. A delayed second murmur of approval came out after one of the Japanese had translated for his colleagues.
"I only want two or three of you at a time," the guard went on.
"Don't be bloody stupid," yelled Gunther in reply. "It'll take one at each corner of any mattress."
"All right, I'll take four."
"That'll take all day to get the mattresses and sheets that we need," Gunther went on.
The guerilla turned to his colleagues and started talking in a Filipino language. The other guards seemed to all nod an approval. It was too hot to argue.
"O.K. We'll need a few trips. I'll take ten people. Eight people for mattresses and two others for sheets or anything else that might be useful."
T.A. looked at Gunther. The number allowed out was more than they had expected. Hostages immediately began milling around the gate. T.A. started to panic. It seemed his plan was going awry before it even began. Too many people were pushing for a chance to get out. He lost sight of the boy and his father in the crush. He could hear Gunther yelling; a guard then joined in the screaming before everyone moved back from the gate.
When most of the milling group pulled away, T.A. noticed there was only a group of nine left near the gate. He noticed the grin on Gunther's face. T.A. was pushed forward to make up the tenth. With relief T.A. saw the sheet covered rather lumpy looking tall man with an umbrella pulled down over his back. Surrounding him were three other tall hostages to hide the misshapen form.
It did not look perfect, but T.A. hoped with a bit of luck they would get away with it.
T.A. was the first out of the gate followed by Gunther. The guard was counting loudly and clearly in English as each hostage passed through. T.A. looked back nervously as it came to the turn of the father carrying the boy. Suddenly a ruckus broke out among a group of hostages further along the fence-line distracting T.A's attention. The Swiss dive-master was pushing and swinging punches at the Frenchman who had won the pool tournament the night before.
T.A. began cursing under his breath at the possible upset to his plan. Gunther gave him the thumbs up, and he realised that this was the ruse to attract the guards’ attention from the hostages leaving. As soon as the ten were out of the gate, three guards ran in to separate the feuding parties. Viciously swinging the barrels of their M16's between the two main protagonists, the feud stopped as quickly as it started. Gunther moved to T.A's side.
"So far so good," he whispered to T.A.
"Jesus, I thought we'd blown it."
"Good job by the diving instructor eh?"
"So good even I thought it was real. I was frightened shitless."
The guard who had told them about getting the bedding, led off. Only four guards plus the group leader were escorting them. They were obviously not expecting any trouble.
Beside Gunther, the boy’s father, the three tall men surrounding the father, were the two other Swiss guests, a sober Graham, and another of the long term guests whose name he did not remember.
Any attempt by the escorting guards to force them into a single file was being continually thwarted by Graham and the tall escorts of the father. They were very aware that the disguise was too thin to fool a close inspection. Occasionally an inconspicuous supporting arm helped the father carry his load.
T.A. presumed the guard would go to the resort nipa huts nearest to the tennis court. He was becoming worried when the guard led them past the first group of huts and down the trail towards the ex-pat houses. He was concerned about the physical demands on the father carrying the boy. It would be good for T.A., he would be further away from the tennis courts.
Some guerillas they passed were lying in the shade of trees outside the Simpson house, where the staff were held. Many appeared to be sleeping. They showed little interest in the procession.
The guards led them onto the lawn of the Brooke house. T.A. felt a little guilty that he and the other prisoners woul
d be pillaging Malou's and his sanctuary.
"Good choice," said Gunther, contradicting T.A.'s thoughts.
The guard indicated two guards to stand at the front of the house.
"Five of you stay here," the guerilla leader said to the hostages, "the other five follow me." He prevented Gunther and Graham from moving forward.
The guerilla leader led five onto the porch and around to the back door. Only two guards followed their group. Three tall hostages bunched closely around the father carrying the boy.
"Get the sleeping gear that's suitable and bring any mosquito nets. Pile it up outside the back door."
The guard waved them toward the door, already open from presumably forcefull entry the previous night.
T.A. led the way in. The three surrounding the father all seemed to be trying to force their way through the door together.
Immediately they were inside, the boy slipped off his father's back and crouched on the floor below window level where he could not be seen by the guards waiting outside.
"We'll have to hurry and get everything before one of the guards comes in," said the boy's father.
In an almost panic rush they began hauling the mattresses to the door. T.A. ripped a hole in the mosquito net in his haste to get it down from the ceiling hooks. As soon as it seemed that all the practical essentials had been removed, he looked at the base of the bed and realised that he was too large to hide under it.
The built in wardrobe was only a half size, therefore also too small. T.A. remembered the door jamb in the second bedroom was set wide enough out from the wall for it to be left open and provide enough space for him behind it. It was not the best, but it would have to do.
The other hostages were ready to leave as he slipped behind the door.
"Good luck," each of them whispered as they passed by the bedroom door on their way out.
T.A. knew that within a few minutes he would know whether or not the ruse had worked.
The guard stood by the doorway as four of the hostages walked out, placing three mattresses in a single pile. Each then moved to a corner and grasped the manufacturer's material-handle sewn to the bottom mattress. From the groans they let out as they lifted the load, it was not as light as they expected. The guard waited for the fifth hostage to appear.
The fifth hostage emerged, head covered in a mosquito net, loose sheets wrapped around his neck and further folded sheets piled high on his arms. Under all this linen, the last hostage, the boy, face unseen, still looked so frail. As he stepped forward a guard grabbed a few sheets from his arms to relieve him of some of the weight.
One of the four hostages carrying the mattresses stumbled, cursing loudly as he fell quite comfortably onto the pile of mattresses. The other three hostages laughed. The fifth hostage walked past while the other four readjusted their load before they too made their way back to the front lawn.
Watching the laden hostages struggle under their burdens, the guard in charge now realised this was going to be a long exercise. To get enough mattresses for all the hostages might take hours. Despite that he decided that for the next outing he would send only four hostages with four guards to the nipa huts nearer the tennis court.
"Those with a load can go back to the tennis court now," he ordered.
The leader gave instruction to two of the guards. One immediately led off. The laden hostages followed, trailed by the second guard.
The Maddigan house was next. Two guards supervised the collection while the house leader stood on the trailer path watching the backs of the first group; they were soon lost to view heading toward the tennis court. A few minutes later the second group re-emerged from the Maddigan house, again carrying three mattresses and linen.
They had just begun their return when he heard a chorus of distant whistling, cheering and applause from the direction of the tennis court. He knew the mattresses would be appreciated, but did not expect the amount they appeared to be showing.