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
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