He pointed to Barguyo, the youngest of the Huks. Tasked with detonating the explosives during the convoy raid, Barguyo had been part of the New People’s Army since he was fourteen. He had been recruited easily enough, as a youngster in a government-run orphanage, Barguyo had been raised by a wealthy family, the dream of every waif.
But years of sexual abuse by the rich merchant had instilled a deep hatred for those with extravagant material possessions. Cervante had recruited the boy off the streets when the youngster had attempted to go underground, accused of murdering his foster parents. He had turned out to be the most dependable of the recruits, as one motivated by vengeance rather than ideals — which caused Cervante to post Barguyo for the most dangerous assignments, yet keep an eye on the boy in case he should get out of hand.
Back at the University of the Philippines, the economic analogy was high risk, high yield.
Cervante instructed Barguyo to circle the house and storm the opposite end. Barguyo nodded and slipped off with two of his compatriots. Cervante knelt and followed his progress from underneath the house. He saw the boy’s legs move swiftly around the corner. When Barguyo was in position, Cervante nodded for the rest of the men to follow him. He pulled out the revolver and slung the rifle around his front — he didn’t want to be slowed in close quarters. Cervante swung up around the corner and lifted himself onto the porch. He didn’t wait for the others as he moved quietly toward the door.
Two, three steps brought him to the screen — Barguyo mirrored his movements at the opposite end of the sprawling porch. Cervante swept open the door and bolted inside. Nothing. He spotted a piano, wicker chairs, and a rug covering a waxed wooden floor. Cervante peeled off to the left, his men covering the right.
They moved as if they were still in the jungle— stealthily, stepping carefully. Cervante raced through a side bedroom and into the back kitchen. A toddler in a high chair banged on a plate; his older sister shrilled. The children’s mother dropped a pot of water, splashing it over the floor. A scream. The woman knelt to pick up her child while keeping her eyes glued on Cervante.
Someone bellowed outside the room; a single shot silenced the commotion.
Barguyo huffed into the kitchen from the opposite side of the house.
“Only one man.”
The woman shrilled, “No, no, no!”
“Silence!” shouted Cervante. He wanted time to think, tried to remember how much traffic he had observed coming up the long stretch of road into the jungle. At this time of year, plantations were dormant. More people were therefore not to be expected.
The woman gathered her two children around her, sobbing.
What to do with her? he thought. She was young enough to keep the men occupied.
Cervante swung around and took in the men’s faces; already some were smiling in anticipation. It might be wise to have a little entertainment … but one woman in a pack of men would soon start to sow dissension, plant the seeds of distrust and doubt, cause the formation of cliques and eventually turn the men against one another.
They had much more important work to attend to — to set in motion the wheels that would eventually save the Filipino people. He turned. The woman narrowed her eyes at him and drew her young children close.
Too bad that a few had to suffer in the interim.
Cervante drew up his pistol and pumped two bullets into the woman’s head. She sprawled backward from the momentum of the bullets; both children started screaming.
Barguyo put down his rifle and smiled at the children. He looked quizzically up at Cervante. The look was forlorn, detached.
Cervante didn’t hesitate — they had much more important work to attend to.
A bullet each took care of the children.
It seemed crazy to Charlie, waiting in front of a football stadium to go to a movie. The sign over the entrance read bamboo bowl, but the stadium wasn’t made of bamboo nor was it shaped like a bowl — but it was the only stadium on base, so he waited.
Charlie glanced at his watch: six-thirty. The sun was just setting and the clouds were bathed in a soft red glow. It looked like it was raining in the mountains. In the distance the roar of a jet taking off washed over the base. A string of people shuffled into the stadium. Charlie looked out over the crowd and wondered if Nanette would really show.
When they had departed from the pool yesterday afternoon, the “date” had come about because of an impromptu comment. Nanette had remarked that the classic movie 2001: A Space Odyssey was playing tonight at the Bamboo Bowl, leaving it tentatively open that they would meet.
Darkness quickly fell. People were still walking in from the parking lot. Charlie had just begun to think that she wasn’t going to show when he heard his name being called. He turned and saw her. She was wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up; her long blond hair was tied back in a ponytail. Even in the dusk Nanette’s face looked radiant, freshly scrubbed. She huffed up, carrying a blanket and a paper sack with two long pieces of bread sticking from it.
“I couldn’t get free from the Nipa Hut.” At his puzzled look she laughed and tossed her golden hair over her shoulder. “You are new here, aren’t you? That’s the duty-free shop.”
Charlie nodded and took the blanket from her. “No problem. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it.” Over my dead body! he thought. He looked around. “So how does this work?”
“Come on.” She took his arm and led him to the entrance; she just came up to his shoulder.
At the ticket booth Nanette insisted on paying her own way. They walked through the main corridor, passing by locker rooms labeled home and visitor and into a long tunnel. The tunnel opened up into the stadium. They were a third of the way up the stairs, looking out onto a football field. In the center of the field, a metal scaffolding held up a large screen four stories high. Wheels were positioned on either side of the support structure and a long, worn path in the playing field grass showed where the screen was moved when the field was in use.
“Want to sit in the grass?”
“Sure.”
They positioned the blanket away from the other people, mostly couples their age. Nanette rummaged through her paper bag and pulled out the two thin loaves of French bread, an immense hunk of cheese, and two bottles of sparkling water. Charlie’s eyes widened.
“I could have picked something up.…”
Nanette handed him a loaf and tore off a piece of bread. “We had some leftovers. It’s no big deal.”
Charlie opened his bottle of water. He didn’t miss the reference to we—which made Nanette seem even more mysterious.
He chewed off a piece of the bread; it was hard, almost crusty, unlike the large loaves of French bread he was used to eating. “You’re lucky I didn’t have my leftovers — otherwise we’d be eating cold chicken and bean dip.”
She made a face. “Bean dip?”
“Sure. It’s one of the seven basic food groups: bean dip, nachos, brownies, ice cream ….” She was laughing before he’d finished the list. Charlie chewed on the bread for a moment. “So, tell me about yourself.”
Nanette sliced off a hunk of cheese and lounged back on the blanket. She propped a knee up and leaned toward him. “What do you want to know?”
“Who you are, what you do. Why you met me here.”
“That’s not hard. To answer your last question first, I guess you seemed more intelligent than the usual guys I run into. There’s something to be said for not trying to impress a girl with fighter talk and guzzling beer.”