The PP12 is a small group of twelve prominent men in the military and the business community. It was said that they controlled the economy and the government of the country under the supervision of the President. Normally they meet at Camp Crame, a military bulwark of the country.
The military camp was a huge complex, situated about eight-thousand five hundred miles to the east of New York. It had a large mid-section with towering trees jutting up in acres and acres of land, flanked by buildings to the right and the left when you enter. This was the seat of the military top brass of the Philippines and PP12.
A black sedan luxury car rolled past the sentry at the gate and then proceeded to the north wing building taking the right lane. It found its way in front of a large building where it stopped.
Total urgency pervaded at the camp. The uniformed chauffeur unlocked his door and snappily jumped out to open the back door. A tall muscled officer in brown fatigue uniform stepped out and straightened his bush jacket, pulling it down. Medals shone on both shoulders. As soon as the chauffeur closed the door, the Colonel strode directly toward the building, where a guard stood straight to give him a snappy salute. He passed, without saluting. With a worried countenance, he went straight to the General's office. He paused at the door then slipped inside after knocking twice.
General Ver had been waiting inside, looking out of his small window. The room smelled clean, well ventilated with a new air-conditioning unit installed. He was a man of details who had complete control of situations and had an instinctive knack for what worked and what didn't. In spite of this, he was nevertheless as human as anybody else as to make a lot of foibles in his life. He was better than good though and his judgment was terrific. He would not have become a General if he wasn´t.
He was a loyal supporter through and through who would not say 'No' to the President and would blindly carry out his wishes and orders without question. On the contrary, he was not hesitant to offer intelligent advice and took the position of a constructive critique when necessary, in the interest of national security. Thus, he became the most loyal officer and upon the president's election as head of the government, became part of his inner circle and worked his way up through the military ranks.
He was also the head of the PP12, the tentacles of the monster, the collective name of twelve of the most powerful advisers of the president who invariably came from the military and the business community. They were his vanguard, his brain, and his puppets. Opposition to him was summarily executed at their prodding or orders. Student leaders all over the land who opposed the president were eliminated without any trace. The group was responsible for many human rights atrocities, although the extent of their responsibility was still unproven and in limbo. These atrocities include torture, murder, arrest, and detention without due process. Seizure of properties and businesses without compensation was also a common occurrence.
During the latter years of his term, the President had conspired with the General and various leaders of the military and the Constabulary police to gain full control of the country. They successfully declared Martial Law in the land and imposed a dictatorial regime on the people. Thus this group came into existence. Military leadership powers were lodged in this group, taking over from democratically elected officials and court judges their real powers.
The name PP12 had originated from the group's haughty sense of superiority over the rest of the military and society in general. There was a widespread story that each of the twelve associates had chosen the name Patek Philippe12 to give them the same first-class status as the watch, which the president had given them, although this was allegedly proven to be untrue. Actually, each member was given a Patek Philippe watch made in China, but because of the story, the name Patek Philippe12 stuck and was still used to refer to these twelve powerful associates. It would be striking to note that the power they were wielding was also as fake and as cheap as the watch they were wearing. Rank and file soldiers thought so, thus creating division and dissent across the military establishment.
“Hmm,” General Ver grunted, clearing his throat. “Take a seat Colonel.”
“Thank you, sir,” he answered snappily.
“So, I understand that your last assignment was accomplished without a mess?”
“Yes, sir. We have competent men in that city,” the Colonel confirmed.
“I admire you for such a job. Congratulations. But, let's put that to rest. Now let's talk about the more important one before us.”
“Yes, sir General.”
“Colonel, it is important and the center of concern for all the bosses. You know how it is - it should be executed as planned. Unless you have a better one, let´s stick to what the top brasses had planned."
“Yes, General Ver.”
“I want it to be error-proof. And I expect you to carry on with the order with utmost secrecy,” said the General.
“I understand, sir.”
“Remember this. . . A good soldier dies for his fatherland and a loyal one for his superiors."
“I have soldiers to carry it out, sir- the best of my men. The rest of the men will be covering all parts of the airport so there won´t be any hitches.”
“I want you to understand that there's somebody who doesn't want him to come home. The senator must not set foot on the country, nor even show his shadow, now that the strong man is terribly sick.”
“That's understood beyond question, sir.”
The General bounced up and started pacing the room. “He is the opposition's rallying point and that makes it frightening for so many people. If he finally returns to the country there's the danger for the opposition to gather support . . . from all sectors and to take over when something happens to the President.”
“I'll keep that in mind, sir.”
“And that if you fail, remember there will be harsh circumstances. We don't want you to fail on this, do we?”
“We don't, sir.”
“I personally picked you to do this because of your noted background on special ops. So don't fail me, Colonel.”
“I won't disappoint you, sir.”
“A consensus among the top brass has been made and we want the president's wife to be up there to assume the post when transition comes. Not this neophyte who we know lacks experience. If something happens to the president nobody would want any changes in this country with him as the successor.” The General paused to look at the large picture of the still healthy leader on the wall.“If he succeeds, there will be changes. And these changes will not be very good for you and for those who possess them now, the power that is, the government and especially for the military,” the General continued.
“I understand, sir.”
“Do you have everything in place?”
“Yes sir,” the Colonel replied with finality.
“I trust you and I’m putting all my cards on your judgment.”
“Yes sir. I have taken care of all the plans and execution.”
“I am informed that there will be many well-wishers from the opposition welcoming him at the airport . . . and also from the press.”
“I've assigned men to control them, sir, to put them away from the scene”
“Good, Colonel.”
“Do we have a news blackout . . . at least for a day?”
“That's done, sir.”
“I'm glad you have done your assignments. After this, all of you must disperse and be back to your respective posts.”
“Yes General.”
“Dismiss Colonel.”
“Yes sir.” The Colonel promptly turned about-face then slipped outside after saluting. It was a last-minute instruction and the General expected him to comply accordingly. The same guard saluted again as he passed, then he got out of the building toward his waiting car.
Coronel Nicolas Follows was obedient. When he was young and still in school, he always obeyed his teachers. He learned obedience at home when his mom would always remind him of their surname. She would say, "You are Nicolas Follows so you should be obedient. Remember that, son."
Loyalty sometimes is blind. It cuts deep into reason, to bleed, and find its way into the lower ranks. In the darkness, it continues to manipulate the minds of the lesser ones, for them to see no other than the end which they blindly pursue. Colonel Follows was one clear example of a subordinate who followed every order from his superiors, may it be humanly or repressive. He was a pawn or appropriately said a robot.
The humming of the air-conditioner left General Ver thinking of other ways to maintain control of his minion now that the strong man was ailing. His days were counted. And if he acted slowly he would lose his PP12, including all the wealth and influence they had amassed all those years they were in power. Maintaining the status quo was his nagging concern, to keep it whatever the cost may be.
JC accepted the job, hopeful that the new assignment would give him a promotion.In their talk at the office, Mr. McMillan told him, "Your role is principally to follow the story of the controversial senator, Benigno Aquino Jr., who is on his way back to his country after seven years in exile. He is a charismatic person and full of followers. People think that he is the only possible replacement for the ailing president. There are threats to his life. And he might not be able to step on the land. This is the reason journalists are overly interested in covering his life. Catch up with him. I don´t want any other newspapers to come first before us. "JC listened with an open mind. "Copy, sir," was all he could say.In going out of the office, JC was jubilant and eager to do what his boss told him to do. "The discomfort is temporary. Of course, there is a sudden change in temperature, from temperate to tropical that I will have
He cogitated with total delight at his coffee corner flirtations with Kate at the office, and at how she could fall easily into his little play of words. Images past flashed in slow motion, at how his phone conversation with her went on, seconds before he left his flat. He smiled to himself with pleasure.'You missed something,' Kate said.'Did I?''You didn't bother to say goodbye.''Oh, I'm sorry, Katie. I will make it up to you on my return.''Hey, the boss said that you should call immediately on arrival. And that our man in our local office will be waiting for you at the airport. Don’t forget.''I won't. Don't worry.''And thanks for that lunch.''No problem. It was nice and besides, it gave me some insights into my stupidity with you.''Why do you say so? ' asked Kate, her voice soft and coquettish.'For a lot of things.''That leaves me to thinking if you could give me an example,' she asked, p
The Cebu Military Camp was a vast expanse of land dotted with several buildings which were the barracks. From a bird's eye view, far above the air looking down, their galvanized iron roofs seemed odd and rusty. They were peppered with holes, used bicycle tires, and many other useless articles. From that vantage point, it looked innocently like any of the other roofs around but they were the barracks of the military in the southern part of the country. On closer look the buildings were grungy, their paint peeled off and they were packed together like staples in a cartoon.In one of the quarters, the air was steaming hot. Perspiring, two men were anxiously waiting for their last-minute instructions from the top.One of them was Rudy Rude who was pacing the floor restlessly. Fair-skinned, people called him 'Mestizo'. This was due to his Caucasian feature, and good looks. He was handsome but he was ruthless. In their missions, he loved to pull the trig
Eight hours wearily drifted by. Soon JC would see land. Then the announcement, for which he had dreaded, came about unexpectedly from the P.A. system. There was a crackle and the pilot’s voice rose above the din. “May I have your attention, please?.. I'm sorry to announce that we are behind schedule. Unexpectedly the tower told us to hold on . . . and that we will be landing soon. This is due to some unavoidable circumstance . . . The temperature outside is 32º centigrade. Don't hesitate to ask the stewardesses for anything. Please make yourself comfortable. Thank you.”No reason was announced by the pilot but the plane hovered above the vast sky interminably, waiting for approval from the tower to land. Everybody inside was beginning to be anxious, it seemed the passenger cabin became smaller as time dragged on and on. It reeked of anticipation and anxiety.The cabin burst with relief when the plane finally got the go signal to lan
After her short conversation with JC, Kate passed the line to the boss's office. There was a click, and then Mr. McMillan came through. “Hello, John Carlos.” His voice was calm but had traces of the pressures of everyday work. He was already expecting his call."Good evening, sir. Do you already know?”“What is it that I should never know? News is you, John Carlos. If there´s something that comes out aside from us, then we are not the first. Haven´t I told you we should be the first? Tell me. That's why I sent you."“Well, I am just presuming some other newspapers got it first, sir. If there's no news, there's no news yet, wherever you are. I said that because Tommy, our man here said there's a news blackout over here.”“Okay. What happened?”“The worst of what we had expected came today, sir. The senator was assassinated.”“What?
After breakfast, JC went to the bank and had his dollar changed. Tommy waited outside. After counting his money, he went to look for him. He was there alright sitting in his car.“I want to interview the head of that military operation, Tom. Will that be possible today?” he asked him.“I'll call Louisa to arrange that for us.”“Then we should go see members of the opposition.”“We can do that in the afternoon, JC"All over the land assumptions ran high. People not only speculate, but they were also suspicious of the government-created media and pointed an accusatory finger at a high-level conspiracy. Somebody was responsible up there. After years of authoritarian rule, people’s judgment was set on no one but the monsters. Putting aside due process they found them guilty by popular consensus. Public clamor for an explanation or a denial was broiling from north to south. It was expected to come out soon
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