Pike interrupted. “Jennifer, that’s exactly what Johnny’s team is tracking. You’re talking about his mission right now.”
She let a little aggravation slip out, putting her hands on her hips. She knew Pike would let her continue. He always did. “Can I finish?”
He threw his hands in the air. “Can I stop you?”
She began again as if he hadn’t said a word. “The religion alone would transcend the monetary class. Two Muslims working in the pressure cooker of a security zone would bring them together. They’ve probably been on the end of multiple slights. Maybe this connection is innocent. Maybe it simply explains how the women met. Just because both are Muslim doesn’t mean both are terrorists.”
“Jennifer, come on. You’re grasping at straws.”
“So what? All we have to do is wait on the transcript. See what they said. If it’s terrorist related and confirms Johnny’s theory, I’ll send it to him with my apologies. He’s certainly not going to read it, and it might help the mission.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then we take what we know and work with it. There is no downside. You said you weren’t thinking about the mission before. I’m asking you to do it now.”
He halfheartedly tossed a shirt into his bag. “Shit. Honey badger don’t quit, huh?”
She tried to contain it, but her face split into a smile, knowing she’d won. “No. Honey badger don’t quit.”
Chapter 7
I heard someone knocking on my door at seven A.M. and had no doubt who it was. I thought about ignoring it in the hopes she’d go away, but I knew she knew I was in here, and she’d keep banging away until I answered.
I got out of bed and answered in my T-shirt and boxers, barefoot. I wished I didn’t keep my hair cut so close because I would have liked it to be sticking out all over the place to make a point.
I opened the door midknock. “Did you already set your watch to CONUS time? Or maybe you’re having trouble reading it.”
She brushed past me, saying, “Where’s the computer?”
“On the desk. If that transcript hasn’t arrived and you’ve woken me up for nothing, you’re going to pay.”
She ignored me and sat at the desk, bringing up our secure “company” e-mail. There was one message waiting. She clicked it open, and I read over her shoulder.
OLDER WOMAN: What happened to your face?
YOUNGER WOMAN: It’s nothing. He slapped me. He does that when he’s under stress.
— Garbled. Movement.
YW: I have a plan to get out. Were you serious about me becoming your maid? Will your husband allow that?
OW: Oh yes. I’m very serious. I’ve already set it in motion. My husband suspects our current maid is stealing from us. By the end of the week, he’ll be sure. I’ll have her fired.
YW: Can I come live with you? We didn’t talk about that, but I have a plan. I’m going to need someplace to live.
OW: What plan? What do you mean?
YW: My husband is doing something criminal. I don’t know what it is, but I went to his workshop last night. He was building something. Two packages. When I came in, he screamed at me to leave. That’s when he hit me. He locked them in a cabinet.
OW: And? What are you going to do?
YW: He’s leaving tomorrow. Going to visit family in Mindanao. After he’s gone, I’m going to call the police and have them break into the cabinet. Whatever is in there is bad. They’ll arrest him when he comes home — and I’ll be free.
OW: Are you sure?
YW: Only if you want me to come live with you. I can’t stay at that house. His family will come for me.
OW: [Garbled.] Yes. [Garbled.]
— Moan. Movement. Garbled.
The rest of the transcript consisted of the word moan or garbled, with an occasional yes thrown in. I couldn’t believe the analysts actually put every sound on the page. Perverts.
A little surprised, Jennifer said, “I’m right, aren’t I? They don’t have anything to do with terrorism. She’s going to sic the police on her husband.”
“Looks that way.”
“What do you want to do now? Call Johnny?”
I thought about it. He was pretty damn pissed and wouldn’t really listen to anything we had to say at this stage. It would be better to just send him the transcript and my analysis in a flash message. He’d have to read it because of the priority, and after he got over the aggravation that I’d sent it, he’d do what was right. The main point was to let him know his original anchor was about to be arrested. That would throw a wrench into things for sure.
“I’ll shoot him a flash. He’ll do the right thing with it. Then, when we see him again, you can ask for your case of beer for being correct. Go ahead and pack your stuff. Since you got me up, maybe we can catch an early flight.”
She nodded and stood up from the computer. Before she reached the door I said, “Jennifer.”
“Yeah?”
“That was some good work. Don’t think it wasn’t noticed.”
“That’s not why I did it.”
“I know. But if there’s only one exit row, I’ll let you have it.”
She smiled and left the room. I completed the message for Johnny and sent it, then went to our travel website. I found a Delta flight leaving at ten A.M. By the time I’d packed, she was back with her luggage.
We checked out and began driving to the airport. I had just accessed the Luzon Expressway, minutes away from the terminal, when Jennifer said, “Hey, why don’t we swing by Bayani’s house? Just to see what’s going on. It’s on the way.”
What the hell?
“Jennifer, it’s not on the way. It’s farther down the expressway, away from the airport. Why?”
“I was just thinking about what the wife said. About Bayani leaving today. Maybe it’s nothing, but worst case we can send an update to Johnny about what we find. That transcript said she was going to call the police today.”
“I don’t even know how to get there.”
She pulled out her GPS and said, “I’ve already got it programmed.” I rolled my eyes while the device locked on to the satellites. When it did, she said, “It’s just another seven minutes.”
I saw the runways of Aquino International Airport off to my right and said, “We’re going to miss our flight.”
“So we catch another one. Next exit.”
I swore under my breath but did as she asked. We wove around the streets, the township growing more decrepit, with houses made out of cheap tin, some looking like they actually used flattened beer cans.
We passed the Blue Mosque and I knew we were close. It was the only one in Maharlika village, and one of the oldest in the city. I remembered Johnny saying Bayani lived nearby.
Three minutes later, we didn’t need the GPS. The road was crammed with police cars, some with lights turning. A policeman stopped us but gave out no information. Jennifer pointed down the road, and I saw the wife standing in front of a shanty, hands in her face, crying.
I pulled around and parked outside the police perimeter, thinking about how I could get some information. Just outside the line of cops I saw a man with two cameras draped around his neck holding a notebook.
Reporter.
“Jennifer, see that guy over there? The one with the cameras?”
“Yes.”