“Go work your female charms on him. See if he’ll tell you what he knows.”
She exited without a word, jogging toward the man. I saw them talk for a couple of minutes, and she came jogging back.
“Well, I found out why the wife was crying.”
“What’s up?”
“They cracked the cabinet and there wasn’t anything inside. The reporter said it was a busted story, but the wife is now petrified of what will happen to her when he returns and finds out she called the police.”
“There was nothing incriminating?”
“Nope. Maybe this whole thing has been off base.”
I fired up the engine and jammed the car into drive, shouting orders. “Call the Taskforce right now. Get a lock on Bayani’s phone. They’ll have the data from Johnny’s earlier work.”
“What? Why?”
“Bayani’s the link. There is no other connection. There was nothing incriminating because he took it with him. He’s going to attack. Today.”
Chapter 8
We were back on the Luzon Expressway before the Taskforce responded, telling us the phone was at the airport on the western side, in between terminal one and terminal two, meaning we’d have to drive all the way around. I said, “Get out your tablet. Find out what’s at that location, and find a way inside the perimeter. I want to take him from inside.”
I dialed Johnny. He answered with a weary tone. “Yes, Pike, I got the flash message. I’m evaluating it.”
“Forget that. We just went by Bayani’s house. The wife’s already called the police and—”
“You what? Pike, I’m getting a little sick of the meddling.”
“Well, get used to it, because I’m about to bring some more. The police hit the house and found nothing. No packages, no incriminating stuff.”
I heard nothing for a moment, Jennifer tugging on my arm. She said, “It’s a bonded warehouse for inbound customs.”
Johnny said, “Was Bayani there?”
“No. He’s at the airport right now at a bonded warehouse on the west side. By terminal two.”
He didn’t need a road map drawn out. I heard him shouting instructions, and he came back on. “What else do you have? What are his intentions with the packages?”
“You have everything I do. I don’t know what’s in the packages, but it won’t be doughnuts. We’re about ten minutes out. We’re going to penetrate the perimeter of the airport and try to roll him.”
He said, “I got the track. We’re on the way, but it’ll be about thirty. Pike, that warehouse will have a shit-ton of security because it’s a customs facility.”
“I know. We aren’t going through the front door. Jennifer’s looking now.”
He said, “See you on the X.” And hung up.
We were now going south, paralleling the eastern edge of the airport on Kaingin Road. I rounded the turn, entered Nino Aquino Avenue, and began heading north, seeing terminal one ahead of us. Jennifer said, “I got something. There’s an old park called Nayong Pilipino that butts right up to the airport. It used to be a tourist attraction showing all of the different cultures of the Philippines, but it’s since been closed due to expansion of the airport. I’m willing to bet we could jump the fence there.”
“How far away from the warehouse?”
“Looks like a couple of kilometers because we’ll have to wind our way around the tarmac.”
I saw the signs for terminal two and said, “How are we going to do that?”
“There are a couple of private hangars to the north. I don’t know. Steal a vehicle?”
That was a pathetic plan, but I couldn’t think of anything better.
She said, “Keep going straight. This road ends at the park. Take a right at the T and it’ll run to terminal two. Exit at the terminal two parking garage. It’s next to an abandoned hotel and it’s on the old park grounds.”
I did as she asked, and we were out and running as if we were late for a flight. She took the lead, starting to stretch it out, forcing me to shout, “Slow up. I can’t make it that fast on my leg.”
She did, and I felt like a pussy. We reached the edge of the parking garage and I saw a six-foot chain-link fence, trees and overgrown grass surrounding traditional Filipino buildings that were rapidly deteriorating.
She hit the fence on the run and was up and over in less than a second. I scaled it like a grandpa, my wounded leg screaming.
Jennifer kept us heading west. We circled around a giant fake volcano, now covered with grass, then a lake, the houses on stilts at the edge falling down into the water. We hit the far fence and saw the hangars on the other side. It was an open run to them, in full view of anyone looking.
No good.
Jennifer saw the same thing and said, “Let’s back up to the lake. It’s right up against the taxiway. Without any buildings.”
I nodded and we jogged down the fence line until there were no buildings in sight. Just a straight shot across the tarmac to the new terminal three, a steel-and-glass marvel rivaling any modern terminal on earth, but one that was torn so much with lawsuits and labor issues that it had yet to be used for anything other than domestic flights by Filipino airlines. There was little chance anyone would be using the empty restaurants and bars.
We scaled the fence and then walked back to the hangars, trying to act like we belonged but really just hoping nobody was looking. Who the hell walks along a flight line? Nobody that belongs, that’s for sure.
We turned the corner of the fence and saw the hangars ahead. Facing out, toward the flight line, the backs of the buildings were completely enclosed, but there were a couple of those tractor things that you see hauling baggage trains or driving across the runway. I went to the first one and saw why it was behind the building. It probably hadn’t run since 1960, but I mounted it anyway, taking a beat to study the controls and figure out how it would have run if it were serviceable.
We edged down the building, a giant metal structure made to house whole aircraft. As we reached the front, I touched Jennifer’s arm, holding her up. I slid past her, going the rest of the way to the end, and peeked around. I saw a couple of men working on an aircraft, and another tractor. Away from them. I couldn’t tell if it was theirs or just parked.
“Okay, here we go. Follow me and act like you belong.”
“Pike, maybe we should call Johnny. We won’t do any good if we get arrested. We have no badges or anything else to explain why we’re here.”
I said, “Yeah, I thought about that before. Then you came up with the great idea about stealing a vehicle. Let’s go.”
I grabbed her hand and dragged her into the sun. Once around the corner, I let go and started walking at a brisk pace. The men looked at us curiously but made no move to interfere. We walked straight to the tractor thing and I settled into the saddle, finding the key in place. I turned on the glow plug and waited for it to heat up. Standing on the side, Jennifer said, “One of those guys is looking at us.”
“Get on.”
“He’s coming toward us.”
“Get on.”
She mounted behind me and the man shouted in Tagalog. I ignored him, willing the damn glow plug to light.
“Jesus, Pike, this is stupid. We’re on a riding lawn mower.”
“Too late. He’s going to ask what we’re doing no matter what, and we don’t have an answer.”
He shouted again, and I turned and waved, all smiles. It confused him. I could hear his brain ticking. Who are they? They’re inside the security zone, so they must belong. But they don’t look like they belong.
In the end, the average person doesn’t want to believe something bad is happening, preferring to find the reason that makes sense. This man was no different. The glow plug finally lit, and I fired up the engine, then drove away. The man stared and I waved again, shouting absolute gibberish. He waved back, a confused look on his face.