“I don’t think anything.”
“The government is anxious to... to neutralize Alejandro Espiritu. It’s our understanding that he’s been offered twenty million U.S. dollars to exile himself to Singapore.”
She paused as if waiting for Durant’s confirmation or denial. When he offered neither, she said, “You’re making this very difficult, Mr. Durant.”
“I’m listening.”
“The government would have no objection if Espiritu were to exile himself to wherever he chooses, providing, of course, that he is not supplied with funds to purchase arms.”
“Like Aguinaldo was.”
She almost smiled. “Yes, like Aguinaldo.”
“What you seem to be looking for is another crooked British consul like the one who cheated Aguinaldo out of his money.”
“You know your Filipino history, Mr. Durant.”
“Not really.”
“He need not be British,” she said. “He could also keep the twenty million dollars.”
“What if I say no thanks.”
“Oh dear. I do hope you’re not refusing.”
“I’m exploring the alternatives.”
“If you refuse, we’ll simply have to charge you with poor Emily’s death.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I didn’t say convict you. I said charge you. It could be terribly... well, inconvenient.”
Durant smiled sympathetically. “You’re not very good at this yet, are you?”
She looked away. “Not really.”
“It takes practice.”
She looked back at him coldly. “As does everything worthwhile.”
“Well, to begin with, it’s not twenty million, it’s five million, and the exile’s to Hong Kong, not Singapore.”
A hard slap couldn’t have surprised her more. “Five million?”
Durant nodded, thinking that if her next question was what he thought it would be, she might have a future in her new career.
“Whose money is it?” she said.
The right question, Durant thought. “What do your intelligence people say?”
“That it’s being supplied by a consortium of American and Japanese corporations.”
Durant sighed. “You’d better find yourself some new assets. It’s Marcos money.”
“Oh dear,” she whispered.
“And it’s all to be spent on weaponry.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Which could build up the red menace and speed up the coup. What’s the government’s timetable on the coup?”
She bit down on her full lower lip, as if trying to decide whether to lie. “Within a year,” she said. “Perhaps nine months. They’ll make an attempt anyhow.”
Durant rose. “Okay, I can guarantee that Espiritu will never get his hands on the five million.”
“Guarantee?”
He nodded. “Guarantee. But you’ll have to give me Lieutenant Cruz.”
“Give him?”
“Assign him to me.”
“For how long?”
“A couple of days — beginning now.”
She made her decision quickly. “All right. What else?”
“How do you want Espiritu? Dead or alive?”
It was another hard blow, but she absorbed it more easily this time, although Durant thought he could see tears welling up in her enormous eyes. “I can’t — rather, I won’t tell you to—”
“You do need practice,” he said. “It’s a theoretical question. Would you prefer Espiritu bribed, disgraced and hiding in exile, or dead of natural causes down in Cebu?”
She took a full minute to decide, staring down at the rugless floor as if the answer might lie there. When she looked up, Durant thought her eyes had gone from sad and teary to cold and implacable.
“Dead,” she said in a low firm voice.
“Okay,” Durant said.
Chapter Forty
After Otherguy Overby knocked on the door of Artie Wu’s fifth-floor suite in the Manila Peninsula Hotel, he was told to come in. He entered to find Durant up and leaning against a wall. Wu was seated on a couch, looking freshly barbered and wearing his white silk money suit. Overby would have preferred to find them feet up, shoes off and drinking beer.
“Sit down, Otherguy,” Wu said. “Like a beer?”
Overby shook his head as he sat down in a straight chair, folding his arms protectively across his chest and planting his feet firmly on the carpet.
“Everything set?” Durant asked.
Overby looked at him. “I called the old Colonel down in Cebu and he got word to Minnie. She’s agreed to meet us in Hong Kong but she wants proof it’s all on the up-and-up. Otherwise, no deal. Okay?”
Wu said it was fine and Overby continued. “Welcome-Welcome got the telex confirmation on our rooms at the Hong Kong Peninsula and it’ll send a couple of cars to meet us at the airport.” He paused and looked again at Durant. “What about that homicide cop, Lieutenant Cruz?”
“Manila contacted Hong Kong through a back channel and got him wired into the CID there,” Durant said. “He’s to get full cooperation.”
“No trouble with the airline, I trust?” Wu said to Overby.
“None.”
Wu gave Overby a long look of what seemed to be genuine liking. “I was just trying to tell Quincy about that Rotary Club billboard in Cebu, Otherguy. How’d it go? ‘Will it benefit all concerned?’”
“‘Be beneficial to all concerned,’” Overby said.
Wu nodded, as if grateful for the correction. “And it really looks as if it might be beneficial, doesn’t it?” he said. “Except to one of us.” He stared at Overby. “Or possibly two of us.”
“Get to the point, Artie,” Overby said. “You can shine me on some other time.”
Wu sighed. “I think I will have a beer, Quincy.”
“Me, too,” Overby said.
Durant went to the room’s mini-refrigerator, took out three cans of San Miguel and passed them around. Wu opened his, took several swallows and said, “Who were you, Otherguy, when you called the Secret Service from Cebu?”
“Reuters,” Overby said and drank some of his beer.
“Inquiring about?”
“October, last year.”
“Any special date?” Durant said.
Overby shrugged. “October eighteenth, around in there.”
Wu and Durant looked at each other. Durant shook his head. The date meant nothing.
“October eighteenth where?” Wu said.
“New York.”
“It’s like pulling teeth,” Durant said.
“Otherguy tells things his own way,” Wu said. “Where in New York, Otherguy?”
“The United Nations.”
“Ah!” Wu said.
“What the fuck does ‘Ah!’ mean?” Durant said.
Wu ignored him and smiled again at Overby. “You’re doing fine, Otherguy. What happened last year on October eighteenth at the U.N.?”
“An acting foreign minister made a speech. At a commemorative session of the fortieth anniversary.”
Durant smiled mockingly at Wu and said, “Ah, so!”
Wu ignored him and gently asked Overby, “Whose acting foreign minister, Otherguy?”
Overby had another drink of beer and said, “The acting foreign minister of the Philippines.”
Durant got there first and said, “Jesus.”
Artie Wu, scarcely a beat behind, nodded at Overby and said, “Imelda Marcos, right?”
Overby shrugged again and drank more beer.
“What was in her speech, Otherguy?” Wu said.
“How the hell should I know? We live in terrible times. We should all pull together. Stamp out injustice. What they always say at the U.N.”
“It wasn’t the speech, Artie,” Durant said.
“No. Of course not,” Wu said, staring at Overby. “It was Georgia, wasn’t it?”
Overby looked first at Durant, then at Wu. It was an amused, speculative look. “Good thing you guys don’t play this game for money.”