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
It was raining. The stream from heaven flowed down along the side of the mountain, dragging along branches, leaves of fallen trees, and whatever it found on its way. One isolated driftwood bobbed and rocked, slowly. It picked up speed, winding its way until it landed on a whirlpool at the mouth. In its moody disposition, the surging stream rambled to eventually become a torrent of angry waters, never letting up. The subdued opposition whispered and started mobilizing. There were condemnations of the blatant transgression of a person´s right to life. Scattered groups all over the country could not keep quiet. Little by little they raised their voices. One of these informal conglomerations was the Sulog or Breakfast Club. The Breakfast Club condemned the assassination through the media, still in their covert way. Their idol, hope, and last resort had gone, eliminated by the monster. Now the
Not so many nights were as tranquil and filled with merriment as this one in this ancestral house in Makati. There was soft music in the air, drinks were passed around and nice people mingled to celebrate Tommy’s grandma’s birthday. JC had been busy socializing with Tommy’s old folks, kowtowing to each and every one of them. It was a big family house in Forbes Park, a residential area in the center of town. Sergio Mendezwas playing from somewhere in the house. Tommy’s officemates were there, too. All of them. Tessa Lopez who arrived later hardly escaped everyone’s attention. She was the focus, the center of their admiring eyes, who looked gorgeous in a black Armani dress that revealed her sensuous beauty. It was an evening dress matched with black high-heeled shoes that emphasized the shapely form of her body, and this made JC’s heart skip a bit. He thought she was
Tessa Lopez’s childhood days never suffered economic downturns in spite of the national crisis. A good paediatrician, his father had a stable practice that never ran out of patients. He was a doting and devoted father who saw to it that his family had the best of everything. Her mother was once a model. So that in her married life, she did nothing but to spend all her time at the beauty parlour, which her father tolerated. The only responsibility she felt she had to do was to see that all of Tessa’s needs were fully met. Oftentimes, Tessa’s mother would treat her to an ice cream sundae at Greenbelt Mall. They would take a walk around and shop. When her mother saw that she was tired, she would bring her to the ice cream parlour at the side of the mall. Thus, they sat at a table by the glass window one afternoon. Young Tessa licked her ice cream at the sides to stop it from flow