A Killing to DIE For

by P Gaseaux

  Chapter Fifteen

  Shopping malls! Love the atmosphere, crowds of well-meaning afternoon shoppers and those looking for a decent meal, won’t find one down on the streets.

  It started pouring anyhow, the heavens dropped just as they made the entrance.

  Hatfield got searched as Tanaka and Lowenstein shuffled on through, the armed guards weren’t worried over the obvious. This was where the new middle class came. The hyper-rich would be found in more trendy places…Dubai, Paris and Milan. The poor stayed outside and crouched away from the torrents that emptied straight onto the road.

  Up to a second floor, some joint that served ethnic food, it was the latest fad. Healthy stuff…

  They squeezed through and found a vacant place to sit or maybe it was kept there. Strange, considering the crowds. Took a first look then a second look, there she was over the other side of the hall: Anna and two others -- a couple seated. They’d been shopping too.

  What’s in it; a hand grenade or two picked up on a pre-Christmas sale?

  Hatfield, Tanaka and the running man one side…and the rider, the specialist team leader and ‘the Cat’ on the other side of the Lebanon Cedars Café, like a reunion of sorts. Tanaka was jumpy. Anna!! She’d made it.

  “Can we talk to her?” he asked.

  “Sure. Wait here.” Lowenstein got up to order.

  Tanaka followed him to the counter. “Who are the others?”

  The running man motioned to where the old guy was seated. “Go sit down-”

  “What is your interest in Jackson?” Tanaka whispered. “What happened before?”

  “Listen up. I don’t even need to be talking to you. This is a courtesy call; nothing more. You know your investigation will be pulled…”

  PK Tanaka was dumbfounded. “Pulled? By whom, exactly?” Hatfield was watching them. “Who organized the attempt on Anna’s life outside the mortuary?”

  “Nobody you know,” replied the running man.

  “Is Jackson involved somehow?”

  Lowenstein took a moment to answer this one. The coffee was dumped on the counter by a cashier who was in a rush. He paid. “Jackson is involved in everything but this incident. We checked. We’ve had him under surveillance for several months.”

  “Why?”

  “We intercepted a call from him to Cairo, Egypt. Several months back…we were tracing an import-export operation there.”

  “I gotta know…did Agent Jackson organize the hit?”

  “Categorically, no,” replied the running man. “He’s mixed up in all sorts of other things, I dare say. The shooting was somebody else.”

  “And you think he’ll be leaving the bureau? Why do you say that?”

  “Consider this -- the young man who was murdered -- he removed a sample of whatever it was and reported his concerns to Jackson because he didn’t trust the local authorities. Fair enough, considering.”

  “And?” Tanaka asked.

  “And in doing so he signed the victim’s death warrant. Think about it. Special Agent Jackson tipped the terrorists off by the single act of calling the place in Cairo. Dumb move, but not intentional. That’s why we moved in when we did. But the syndicate moved on them first.”

  “How long did you know?”

  “We’ve had the operation under surveillance a lot longer than that,” replied the running man. “Let’s go sit down.”

  Tanaka stood in front of the running man, blocking his path. “Listen up…Connelly, Flannery…whatever… Are we in danger of any sort? You know the guy so well, what is he capable of?”

  Lowenstein sized the agent up then relaxed. His eyes flicked up. “If I were in his shoes I’d want them to be good shoes…for running as fast as I could.”

  Fair call, Tanaka thought. He moved aside the followed the ‘Irish’ gentleman back to the dining area. He’d certainly want to hear the Manila Attaché’s version of events though.

  JJ Hatfield looked at her long and hard across the tables, Anna looked down. He turned to the running man. “What’s going on? What is this, anyhow; who are you?”

  “Firstly,” said Lowenstein. “We’re sorry for your loss.”

  “As if you’d understand,” mumbled Hatfield.

  “I can only sympathize. We too, we suffer. And we have so much more to lose-”

  “How?” snarled the old guy. “The only thing I ever had, the only one left…”

  “How did you know my name and where to find me?” Tanaka asked. He was suspicious of everything now…even being here could be a problem. He got up and nudged the old guy. “We’re outta here. Let’s go.” He pushed the coffee away.

  “Wait up! Do not concern yourself with security,” said the running man. Like he’d read the agent’s mind. “The couple with your lady-friend there, they come well prepared.”

  On the other side of the room Pakdee was checking the surroundings; unlikely the syndicate would try again in a shopping mall. She wouldn’t have anything to do with the rider and the feeling mutual. She tugged the specialist’s sleeve. “Ladies…”

  The specialist nodded to the rider. They got up and left.

  Like every other piece of real estate in the city the wash rooms were packed like sardines. When one of the cubicles was vacated Pakdee turned and gently rubbed the rider’s hand and whispered in her ear: “Come with me?” She pouted her lips and cocked her eyebrows.

  The rider jerked her hand away in disgust and backed away, scowling. “I’ll wait right here, if you don’t mind.”

  Pakdee entered the cubicle. She had to think and fast. Next to her she listened to the repetitive beeping of somebody texting, the national pastime. Took one thousand Pesos from under her top and carefully placed it on the floor between the two cubicles and held it there firmly with her thumb, beckoning downward with her other fingers. The walls separating the two pedestals were raised at least a foot off the floor and a few seconds passed before the noise from the texting stopped. A curious face appeared below the thin wall, straining to look at whoever was handing her this unexpected tip.

  Pakdee gestured with her other hand for quiet. She her hand upright, twiddling her fingers, sliding the money further toward the other lady. Seconds later she had the cell phone in her hand. It was a very old model with English keys, worth only a fraction of the cash she had given to the owner. Muted the noise function then she started texting:

  ‘ENGL/ TXT BCK/ URGENT/ ASEANCON/ PHMNL/ SAFE OK ONE PAX’.

  She held her breath, hoping the line would connect. Need to get out, get overseas. She checked the sender’s number was activated. She prayed silently. Began a keying in a second message:

  ‘URGENT/ MERCH GONE/ URGT/ RAID SHOP ASAP’

  The delay in the reply was excruciating. A tap on the door, from the rider.

  “How much longer? Having twins or triplets?” she demanded.

  “Still here -- afraid I’ve vanished?” replied Pakdee.

  Finally the thing vibrated. It went through. The reply wasn’t what she was hoping for but at least they knew she was okay…and still on the job. They wanted her out of there.

  She deleted every message function then slid it under the wall along with another banknote of less value. The owner’s face appeared again; this time she clenched her fist as a warning and made an audible hissing sound as she flushed. The Filipina nodded and returned to her aimless texting. One thousand Pesos for a ten Peso text; not bad…the national pastime.

  “Come out all right?” chirped the rider sarcastically, as her hostage washed up.

  “Not really,” replied Pakdee.

  They got back out to the eatery and sat down. Same place, staring down the others across the tables. Lowenstein nodded. The three on the other side got up and came over, they sat.

  “Anna…nice to see you’re still-”

  “Not my favorite style, this place,” Pakdee said. Once they were seated she looked at th
e running man. “Sushi station just there. Coming?”

  “Again?”

  “Not my style -- Arab food not so good,” she replied.

  As they were window shopping for other food they made small talk but did not purchase anything. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about sushi except you get parasites from eating raw fish,” grumbled Tanaka. The running man was right behind the two of them as they were checking out the different things on display.

  Pakdee flared her nostrils and inhaled. “Smell that? Delicious,” she said.

  A few yards from the sushi station was a barbeque front and over the smoldering coals was a whole suckling piglet, hanging from a stainless hook. Bright orange and dripping; it glistened. She turned to the others. “Look! They have skewers and spareribs too.”

  Lowenstein took one look at the whole piglet, turned a shade of chartreuse and screwed up his nose. “I’ll be sitting where we were. Don’t go far,” he gagged through his fingers. The overpowering aroma of barbeque pork and sizzling bacon caught him unawares; he detested it with a passion and he felt queasy.

  “We’ll be right back,” said Pakdee. “Hungry?” she asked Tanaka who had not eaten a square meal since the flight. When the others were out of earshot she murmured: “I can tell you what those things are.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Try not to move your lips -- he’s watching,” she whispered. “I know what the goods were.”

  “What then?”

  “Did Jackson give you a box with a cell phone inside it?” asked Pakdee.

  Tanaka did not answer. The cashier handed them a pork sparerib each, wrapped in a paper towel.

  “Tell me, did he give you a box with something inside?”

  Tanaka took a mouthful and again did not reply.

  “Please…do you have items Will Hatfield showed to the FBI here in Manila? I need to know.”

  “Maybe…you tell me; what’s so special about them?”

  Her pedantic on healthy living did not extend to vegetarianism. Pakdee took a hearty bite of the sparerib and the bone and when finished she spat the sentence out in a single breath: “It was something developed by a Chinese engineer who was living in my country. They were hidden inside the phones. Something for missiles or bombs.”

  Tanaka stopped chewing; all of a sudden the dish had lost its taste.

  “Somebody has been selling these things to terrorists and this is what all trouble is about. The company I worked for was moving this stuff around the globe and my friend Will was murdered, almost immediately after reporting to the embassy. I would have been next.”

  This angered Tanaka. “If you knew about this you could be complicit in working for a terrorist organization. Ever heard of Guantanamo, Lady?”

  “At first we didn’t know, I swear,” shaking her head discretely. She glanced toward the café and realized the running man was moving toward them. “When they took me I found out through her.” Pakdee nodded at the woman who was sitting with the others. “I had no idea what the circuits were intended for until I learnt the helicopter was shot down-”

  “Helicopter…what are you talking about; which helicopter?”

  “Shhh…keep your voice down.” She discretely motioned toward the running man with her thumb. “In the summer of this year a military chopper belonging to one of the most powerful armies on the face of this earth was shot down by a terrorist group not too far from the Egyptian border, you know that? It was one of theirs…”

  “Oh shit,” sighed Tanaka.

  Her face had hardened. “And this is why my country wants these things. If you have the items you must please give them back. I know you have the ones removed by Will Hatfield. I have been ordered to get them back. This is my mission. This is why I am here. If you do have them I will take them, you know that?”

  “Take them? You and which army?” mumbled Tanaka, reeling.

  Anna dropped the unfinished takeout into a trash can next to her. “Please give me the items. I am asking in a nice way.” She turned to the American and hissed: “Trust me, even a special police officer from the FBI would not wish to meet my army…ever!”

  Her jet-black eyes met P K Tanaka’s and neither blinked. The running man was beside them now. He tugged Anna’s arm and steered her back to the others.

  The one person left out was JJ Hatfield. No idea. “Thanks for nothing,” he sighed.

  Pakdee touched Hatfield’s wrist and gazed at him. “I am sorry, too much. I had to see you today. I am sorry for your son. I feel-”

  “Yeah, yeah, so you said before,” grumbled Hatfield.

  When she looked back at him her eyes were moist. “I promise to you I will make this right.” Slowly she spoke: “There has been a killing and they will pay…they will be punished.”

  Hatfield could only stare back at her, hadn’t touched the Turkish coffee.

  “Goodbye Mister Hatfield…”

  They got up and left the table and headed to the exit.

  “I hope this has been of some help to you,” the running man said. “Perhaps you are a little clearer on this issue.”

  “No thanks to you and your boutique-band of mercenaries back there,” snorted Tanaka.

  “If you say so…” The running man gave a disappointed frown. “Sorry you feel that way. Agent Tanaka, if I may ask…tonight please check your signals. You will be receiving instructions from your people in the States.”

  “Whaddya mean? I report in every day; bureau policy. Since when do I take orders from you, anyhow?”

  The running man gave him a conspiratorial wink. “There are forces far greater than you would know and the same goes for me and my people too. Get on that ‘plane and go home.” He nodded at JJ Hatfield and extended his hand. “Trust me sir, we will locate those people who murdered your son. Their actions have cost lives in my home too. And my government is not willing to consider the option of a prison sentence, if you catch my drift.”

  Slowly Hatfield extended his hand and shook. He had no energy now.

  “How can we trust you to do the right thing?” Tanaka asked.

  The running man chuckled. “My friend, we’ve been carefully guarding your oil fields in our region since 1948. No reason to change sides now.”

  He smiled, then he too got up and turned away, he blended into the crowds and he was gone. They would never see him again.

  “Satisfied?” Pakdee hated the running man now.

  “Not until the job’s done.” The running man was clicking through a cell phone, a late model with a large screen, making tut-tut noises and raising his eyebrows. “About time we got that fool Jackson out of the way…” He then launched into a conversation with one of the specialists. Pakdee didn’t catch any of it but they were clearly amused by something.

  “Let me see?”

  “Not suitable for a lady such as you,” said the specialist with a smirk.

  She snatched the iPhone and held it. A movie file and a good one complete with high definition sound. It showed Jackson with some Filipino woman engaged in a tryst.

  Must’ve been what set him off -- creep.

  She scowled and started clicking buttons. Other files. Files protected, took her a second to crack the password. She opened the first file and her disapproval became outright disgust. She closed it. Arcana had missed this. He had an entire pay-per-view website with advertising, the works.

  She turned the iPhone off. “May I please keep?”

  “Why?” asked the running man.

  Pakdee stuffed the iPhone in her pocket. “Tell me something,” she said. “Is that agent -- Jackson -- involved in terrorism?”

  “Certainly not,” answered the running man. “Yes, he is incompetent; yes he may possibly be corrupt and on the take. But no he is not in bed with terrorists.”

  “What were you planning to do about this?”

  “Nothing. We’re here unofficially. We
needed this material to get him out of our hair. Same with the father and the agent from Washington, except the other two are straight…bystanders in all this; innocent victims.”

  “Where did you get this cell phone?”

  “That’s on a need-to-know basis,” said the running man. “We have technicians and sources on the ground in Manila.”

  “There is damning evidence in there. Jackson must answer for this.”

  “Making a naughty tape with some showgirl?” This amused the running man. He remembered her lot, they could be surprisingly prudish. “Tell me you’ve never looked at porn-”

  “You need psychiatric help!” She scowled at the running man and the specialist who were trying hard not to laugh. Their ‘technical officers’ couldn’t have been that good. Now she’d made up her mind. She would deal with Jackson, her way.

  Pakdee bathed and changed and assembled her things. The danger had passed for the time being; the syndicate henchmen were on the run now and had probably fled the islands already. She cooled down and meditated for a while. They’d let her out of the strong room although she couldn’t leave the factory. She found the running man after a while; he was reading something which he slammed shut when he saw her.

  “Miss?”

  “Still got the launch?”

  The running man grinned. “Thought you’d had enough of boat outings by now?”

  “I need a ride,” said Pakdee. “Cebu City. I can make my own way from there.”

  He thought about this. “We can escort you to Bangkok-”

  “I need to return as soon as possible. I would like to take a friend with me…”

  He shook his head. If there’s room for one, they’ll always try and squeeze in more.

  “They know nothing,” said Pakdee. “There are some Thai women stranded in Angeles City; they took care of me after Will Hatfield was killed.”

  “So that’s where you got to…you’re good aren’t you?” He smiled. “I’ll think about it. I can get you on a boat by first light.”

  “I need to make a call, you know that?”

  Lowenstein was impressed in a sense. He moved right up close to Pakdee. “Why don’t you tell the truth? You’re not an accountant. That whole trade operation was a smokescreen, wasn’t it? Who are you really working for, Miss Pakdee-Chayochaichana?”

  She smiled back. They were no longer in control now, and he knew it. “Get me and my friend on that launch,” she snapped. “Anything further happens to me or my friends and you’ll be out of a job. You’ll find out soon enough. All good things come to those who wait.”