The Time's bureau was situated in a recently constructed modern building in the heart of the city along Ayala Avenue. They took the elevator up to the third floor then strode along a narrow long hallway. JC counted three doors before they reached the office.
Without knocking Tommy led the way. When they entered JC was relieved to see it was indeed spacious for a staff of five. He heard the humming of the air conditioner on the wall which was recently painted white and saw it was bare. He had the impression that the office was recently set up.
All of them were busy with their reports for the day, some to be sent to the main office. There were five desks and one was newly installed for the newcomer. JC was pleased to see that there was enough legroom for a tall person like him if he was working in it for most of his time. Then Tommy introduced him to everybody.
“Mr. Martin, this is Louisa and Carlo. She's my assistant and Carlo is our cameraman,” Tommy said, in
Her thoughts lingered with compassion. It was abruptly interrupted when she heard a familiar voice at the end of the line. She was sure she knew the voice. “Excuse me, is this the last on the line?” This was what she heard. “Yes, sir,” a woman with a little child answered politely. Tessa traced the voice to see no other than . . . “Tommy!” she called. She was delighted to see his cousin's familiar face. Tommy turned around in the direction of the voice. “I never thought I'd find you here,” he said in return. “Nobody can prevent me, but hush, be quiet,” she said in a low voice. “If somebody from work sees you here, you would be out in the streets in seconds,” Tommy whispered accusingly. “I don't mind anymore, Tom. With what's happening to the country, I don't give a damn about my work or about myself anymore.” “And you? Why are you here?” She asked. “The same reason as yours
On JC's fifth day he was at the office working with the team when he heard the statement -the long-awaited denial from the Palace which was aired on the radio. On the wall, the air-conditioner was buzzing irritatingly and was giving little comfort to the large space the workers were occupying. After the statement, Louisa went to the little kitchen to prepare coffee for herself. The others went back doing their usual things and JC slipped back to his desk to finish the report he was doing. Nobody believed in what they heard. Some never cared. "Do you believe in that?" Everybody disagreed. One guffawed. The telephone rang three times while Louisa was still in the kitchen. JC picked it up and held the handset. “Hello,” a muffled voice crackled on the other side. “Hello, JC Martin,” he answered, still typing his report, the receiver tucked between his ear and shoulder. He listened. There was hesitation at the other end. Then a litt
The television was on but General Ver's mind was far away, divided between the news and the storm he was facing, with him at the center. He saw Guion Bluford who became the first African-American in space aboard Space Shuttle Challenger on the STS-8 mission. General Ver thought it was a waste of money to send people to space. It was drowned out by the news of the assassination, however, by the footage of the Japanese tape which was aired over and over. A burst of anger was contained in that little office, which was filled with smoke. The General was pacing to and fro, snorting heavily. He knocked the chair down and his anger rose to the roof. Why did it go wrong? He picked up a book and launched it sideways. It thumped on the wall and crashed on the floor. Why did it go wrong? General Ver's mind kept repeating the phrase. "Why did his plan go wrong? He faced his subordinates and launched his verbal attack, “What kind of an operation was that, you nit head?”
The airport security office was small on the first floor of the main building. This was where images of lesser or greater import were seen first. More than twenty blinking close circuit screens, covering practically all corners of the airport was in front of three personnel in uniforms who were manning them. Smoke floated in the air. On their desk, the ashtrays were full of butts, for all of them were heavy smokers. Years of working, in the same way, made surveillance routinely ordinary, even important ones seemed insignificant. Colonel Follows and his men entered the building. They crossed the large area where passengers formed ten queues to the check-in counters. Ignoring the passengers, they took the escalator and landed on the first floor. He was a proud lot but today his pride had left him. Now, was his time to redeem what he had lost. He must erase all evidence that could be found at the airport. The storm was raging, his mind was in turmoil, and he was more concerned
General Ver was the right-hand man. He was the executioner, the one who follows every order to the letter. He also planned the bombings around the country, to make it sound that it was under rebellion and sedition. He made this chaos in order for the president to declare a state of emergency.After the fiasco at the airport, the General was holed up in his office thinking of ways to get away from the blame. His mind was traveling far away, although the television was on, divided between the news and the storm he was facing, with him at the center. He saw Guion Bluford who became the first African-American in space aboard Space Shuttle Challenger on the STS-8 mission. He thought it was a waste of money to send people to space. The space venture was drowned out by the news of the assassination. More particularly, by the footage of the Japanese tape which was aired over and over. The General had never been wrong. He rose up to that level becaus
That night in his room JC was uneasy, tossing and turning. Although the lights were out, his eyes were wide open due to what he thought was jet lag. The sheets smelled new. They felt comfortable on his skin after having been exposed to the tropical climate. In the middle of darkness, he found himself staring at the ceiling. Red and blue lights deflecting from a neon sign came in through the glass window. It was mesmerizing but sleep was long in coming for him. He lay awake and was thinking of the voice, weighing the consequences of her revelation. Who was she? Was she for real? If she was, then what she would be giving would be perfect evidence for the case. And our newspaper will benefit from it. Mr. Mc Millan will be happy. Perhaps, he would promote me to senior editor. A tape of the assassination would clearly show who the perpetrators were. Would she
Hope was Coronel Follow´s last card to keep his job. He was hoping he could stumble on a solution that could redeem his fate with General Ver. He was intelligent and had never failed the general before. So, he pondered deeply. He knew that the airport security depended on surveillance recording around its parameter. He let his mind travel from one point to the other. He examined the buildings, and indeed there were several cameras in-place for security. Immediately, he went to check the facilities personally. The airport security office was small on the first floor of the main building. This was where images of lesser or greater import were seen first. Inside, more than twenty blinking close circuit screens covering practically all corners of the airport was in front of three personnel in uniforms who were manning them. Smoke floated in the air. On their desk, the ashtrays were full of butts, for all of them were heavy smokers. Years of wo
After his interview with General Ver and two opposition leaders, JC asked his office to get a date for an interview with the Palace. He wanted to know what the president thought of the assassination, although he tend to be biased, he nevertheless wanted some facts from the other side. As he expected, there was a denial from the General- a denial of responsibility in all four corners. After a busy day, he proceeded to the department store at the corner to take home things he needed: a white cotton t-shirt, toothpaste, and a shave. He walked through the promenades of the mall. Then he headed to his apartment, passing through some shops to familiarize himself. His height and unique features always attracted some unsolicited attention from young girls. A handsome tall young man with glasses, he was a new sight. And it was expected of them to take a second look. This barely bothered