The Trafficked (24 page)

61

 

The phone rang. It was Fat Harry.

‘We checked you out—very impressive—we have quite a few similar interests, it seems.’

‘You mean we tick each other’s boxes?’

Fat Harry laughed down the phone. He had a laugh that carried on too long after the joke was told. ‘Eleven o’clock, then.’

‘Where?’

‘The Flamingo bar—and Black…no wifey This business is strictly for boys.’

Mann closed his phone. He strapped his armoury on. His spikes were now moved to the harness around his ankle, next to Delilah, and his throwing-star belt was under his armpit, concealed beneath a baggy shirt. He had a knife belt around his waist—with four short-handled shuriken knives tucked inside

He handed Becky a piece of paper.

‘We have to be sure that one of us gets to Angeles. Remy will be waiting for us on a small airstrip, a kilometre away from here. Here is the address…Take the bags and go there now. Remy will wait for two hours.
Any sign of trouble, he will lift off and take you straight to Clark and to Father Finn’s refuge. You will have to coordinate things from there. We have just two days left. We have to find the Blanco and force his hand. We have to find his weakness and exploit it, everyone has one. I’m not even sure that CK wants us to win. I think he wants an excuse to start a war. I don’t want to give him one now. This might all be a game to these people but we’re going to do our damndest to spoil it for them. Don’t worry Mann. You will be on that plane, but if not, rest assured that I will do whatever it takes.’

‘Save me a seat on the plane—no running off with Remy.’

She laughed but he could see how scared she was. He didn’t want to but he left her standing in the centre of the room, his heart melting a little.

He walked out through the hotel lobby, which was open on all sides and ended on the beach, and headed for the Flamingo bar. It was a ten-minute walk. He took his time. He was early—always early—but they did not know that about him. In the distance he could make out the pinks and peach of the Flamingo bar, its canvas flapping gently in the breeze. He was thirty metres away. Beyond that he saw a hint of police action—they must have found Reese. He could see Fat Harry, sitting with his back to him, along with English Bob and a third man with a bald head. That must be the contact they had talked about. They still had not seen him. He slowed down. His feet dug into the sand. Something didn’t feel right.

62

 

Becky looked at her watch. Mann had said to give him twenty minutes, to make sure he was well into conversation with them before she left. It had only been eight.

She made the last check around the room and then pulled out a piece of paper. There was a sketch map and the name of the airfield. It was so lucky that all the signs were in English. It all looked straightforward. It was just a couple of kilometres away, basically up the lane towards the neighbouring town, then take a left. Mann had already settled the bill the night before, so all she had to do was pick up the bags, walk out and get a trike to take her to the airstrip. In that case, why was her heart pounding? Why did she feel so anxious? She looked at her watch again. It would only take ten minutes from the room to the Flamingo bar, and that was at Filipino pace. She moved the bags to the door. It was time to go. Mann would nearly be there by now; she could leave without arousing suspicion. She turned the handle and pulled the door open. As she bent down to pick up the bags she saw legs, feet and expensive trainers—
no one round here would wear those.
She didn’t
look up; instead she launched Mann’s bag forward at the legs and heard the man groan as he fell backwards. At the same time someone else pushed her back into the room. Becky looked up to see four Chinese men. She blocked a punch and turned side-on as she made a run for the door. A man stood in her way, his arms raised to stop her; she hooked her wrists over his and brought a knee up to his groin. He doubled over in pain then she felt the flash of pain as a fist slammed into the side of her head; then an arm tightened around her throat. Her feet were kicked from beneath her and her head smashed against the side of the bed as she fell to the floor.

63

 

Mann began turning at the same time as Stevie Ho stood up and left Fat Harry’s table. Mann began running before Stevie could see him. If Stevie was there, it meant they knew who he really was and his cover was blown. But they had lured him there for a reason. Then it hit him with sickening clarity—Becky was the target.

Mann sprinted back up towards the hotel. He didn’t need to look back to know that Bob and Harry would give him ten minutes before realising he wasn’t going to show up and that he knew. Then they would alert their friends. Mann’s blood ran cold. All he could think of was Becky. He ran through the empty reception—no staff, and no guests. Something was going on that no one wanted to see. Whatever it was must still be happening in the room. Mann took the staff stairs to the third landing and walked halfway along until he judged he was just above their room; then he slipped into an open door whilst the chambermaid was cleaning. He crept out onto the balcony and listened. Diagonally across and down he heard Cantonese being
spoken, the noise of excited, raised voices. He estimated there were four or five men. There was no sound from Becky. Mann stepped onto the ledge and jumped across to the neighbouring balcony. Now he was directly above the room. As he looked over he saw that the French doors to the balcony were open. He could just see inside.

He saw Becky on the floor. A man was over her. She was being raped. He felt the anger roar through him and felt as if he would spontaneously combust if he could not control it. He knew he must control it, because, more than anything, he wanted to rescue her. His senses became heightened as every fibre in him was preparing itself for a fight. He was poised on the railing, ready to swing down. He needed all the force he could muster to get through those balcony doors and into the centre of the room in one massive jump. He took a deep breath in, and on the exhale he held onto the ledge and propelled himself over as hard as he could. His feet contacted with the door frame. The door flew back and banged against the rattan cabinet to the right of it.

Mann crouched low and aimed high. From one hand he threw all five throwing spikes that had been strapped to his ankle. Three of them landed in the face and neck of the man nearest the door. Two were stuck through the shoulders of the man doing up his flies. He was now pinned to the hessian frieze above the bed. The third man had Delilah through his heart and was in the process of dying on the floor. Lastly, from Mann’s left hand he released the Death Star. It span through
the air and sliced through the back of the neck of the man who was in the process of raping Becky. It severed his spinal cord, as Mann knew it would—he couldn’t risk injuring Becky in the process. He had to take the man out this way.

Mann watched him topple slowly sideways, then he walked over and picked him up with his foot and kicked him away from Becky. He checked her breathing; she had been badly beaten but she was alive. He pulled her trousers up and pulled her t-shirt down. Now Mann could let his anger loose. Now, as he turned to her attackers, he knew that he was the last man they would see on this earth. Anger was built in him that would not be quelled. Now he would have justice at any cost. He could never undo the harm they had done to her, but he could make them pay…and he would. She was still unconscious, but she was alive and she could wait one minute, one moment was all it would take for him to settle the score.

64

 

He walked out of the room and down the stairs, carrying Becky in his arms. The alert would have gone up by now, he needed to hurry. He passed the bemused receptionist who had taken a shine to him earlier. One look from Mann told her not to touch the phones. He strode straight to the front. He carried Becky up to the trike riders. He threw his full wallet at a driver, grabbed his keys from him and slid Becky in the sidecar whilst he took off in a swirl of sand. He looked across at Becky. She was stirring. She looked a mess. Her face was bloodied and swollen. He wished the trike had gears, its max speed was thirty and that was on a downhill. He looked behind him. He could see a saloon coming at speed, hurtling down the sandy lanes behind them. Mann looked into the mirror. He saw Fat Harry sitting in the front, English Bob in the back, but the driver wasn’t Stevie. No sign of him.

They were gaining. Mann would have to outwit them. The road was busy. Mann drove up on pavements, took out fruit stalls. The car hooted for people
to move. The trike was smoking, screaming. The road was straightening out, the car gaining. Then Mann turned the corner and saw the runway. To the left was the tank for the aviation fuel, to the right was the small row of hangers, and Remy was at the end of the runway, making his last-minute checks outside the aircraft.

Mann saw him focus on the trike, his scowl changing to a smile when he recognised the driver; and then it changed to a look of alarm as he heard the volley of bullets coming from the car that had just screamed around the corner in pursuit.

Remy jumped inside and started the plane’s engine. It cranked into life, spluttered, coughed, and then the propeller started turning. A second later Remy appeared, standing on the door frame of the pilot’s side, pistol in hand. He fired at the car and blew out the tyre. It caused the car to veer slightly away and swerve. Mann reached the plane, threw Becky inside and took the gun from Remy as he jumped back in the pilot’s seat and began taxiing along the runway. Mann jumped into the plane as it was moving and fired out through the open passenger door. The car was within twenty metres. The plane’s ascent was slow. Remy’s hands were strong and steady on the yoke as he gave it full throttle. Still it didn’t lift from the runway. The car was pulling level with the tail of the aircraft. Mann steadied his shoulder against the door frame, aimed and fired. His shot shattered the car’s windscreen. It swerved away momentarily. They came again. Fat Harry had a gun levelled at Mann. Mann had a choice: kill
the driver, or kill Harry.
Take out the dragon head, and the body will die.

Harry was thrown backwards by the shot. He had been hit in the face. The car skidded, the driver lost control; it was veering towards the far side of the runway. Remy pulled hard back on the yoke and the plane began to lift off. Mann had one shot left. He stretched one arm across the doorway and used it to keep his other arm steady as he aimed his gun at the fuel tank and fired. Three seconds after the bullet left the nozzle the tank exploded in a ball of fire; the heat buffeted the small plane as it lifted off the ground. Mann yanked the door shut.

Remy shouted to him from the pilot seat. ‘Is she alright? Look behind. There’s a medical kit on the wall.’

Mann took the kit down from its strap. ‘Thanks Remy. You’re a handy man to have around.’ He began a search for antiseptic and pads.

‘We should go to Manila airport, it is bigger. They could be waiting for us at Clark. No?’

‘Manila is best, I agree, Remy. I just need to get her cleaned up before she comes round and…’

When he looked back at her, her eyes were open. She was staring at him. He felt his heart rush for a second as he looked at her. ‘Hello babe. You had a rough time but you’ll be okay, tough nut. Come here.’ He eased her towards him and she rested against his chest. ‘It’s all right. You’re going to be okay.’

He could see by her expression that she was trying to piece together what happened. She lay very still for a few minutes.

‘Mann? Johnny?’

‘Yes?’ He kissed the top of her head.

‘Are they dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you.’

65

 

‘Is Becky all right?’

Father Finn was there to meet them at Manila airport, waiting for them on the apron. He was being blasted by the prop wash from the propeller as he opened the passenger door and stuck his head inside.

‘There is a doctor waiting at the refuge.’

Mann had telephoned ahead. The Father knew what to expect.

‘I’m all right, Father.’ Becky sat up and eased herself out of the seat. She hovered, dizzy, at the door. Mann held on to her and steered her out. Father Finn supported her when she got outside.

‘Thank you for coming to fetch us, Father,’ she said, squinting in the sunlight.

The Father held up his hands. ‘No trouble at all.’ His eyes were on her and then he reached out and hugged her.

‘Thank you, Remy.’ Father Finn waved goodbye to Remy; he was eager to make a fast exit—as always, he thought on his feet. ‘Now, let’s go. I need to talk to you
on the way. These are very difficult times, no? Can you walk?’

Becky nodded but she was looking very pale and unsteady on her feet.

‘She doesn’t have to.’ Mann picked her up.

‘I will run on and get the Jeepney.’ Father Finn jogged across the car park and returned driving the Jeepney belonging to the refuge. It had slices of juicy-looking mango on the side and a Mercedes replica emblem on the front.

They left Manila airport and headed north. All three of them sat in the front. The back was filled with sacks of rice that would last the refuge several weeks.

Becky sat by the window and stared out. She had a scarf wrapped around her mouth to ease the pollution that bit the back of her throat and burnt her lungs. She closed her eyes. She knew she was safe now. Next to Mann, she always felt safe; she could close her eyes and rest.

They hit the MacArthur Highway northbound. The sign at the side of the road read:

No Dilapidated Vehicles

 

No Smoke Belchers

 

 

Father Finn glanced over at Becky and could see that she was resting. She wouldn’t hear him anyway—they had to shout over the noise of the traffic and the Jeepney had no glass in the windows. He did not want her to hear what he had to say in any case.

‘There’s been terrible news from Davao, Johnny.
Wednesday is dead. Her throat had been cut. She had been tortured. Her body was dumped back at the entrance to the Barrio Patay. It was left as a warning to others not to come looking for their children.’

‘Why didn’t she wait for us?’ asked Mann, shaking his head with sorrow. ‘Such a bloody shame, Father. She deserved so much better.’

‘She was contacted. Someone frightened her into doing it. You should have seen her, Johnny—made my heart break. She had been scalped; there were cigarette burns all over her body. It’s the same cowardly way that those men always do it…But her legs were sliced through at the back, above the back of the knee, right through to the bone. I don’t know why they did that.’

‘She was hamstrung, Father, to stop her running to or from something.’

‘Jesus, mother of God.’

Mann felt his heart fill with an overwhelming sadness. To him, Wednesday had embodied all the hope and decency of someone who had dug themselves out of the gutter and made a new life for themselves. All she had asked for was a little help along the way.

‘Did anyone see who dumped her body?’

‘Yes, a boy, Pepe, he saw her body thrown from the car. He said it was a big Kano from Angeles. He told me that he had talked to him before. It was Pepe who had delivered the message to Wednesday to go and get her daughter. “Come without the priests,” the boy said they’d told her. You know who that is then, Johnny? It’s the Colonel. No one else hates me like him.’

‘That miserable fucking bastard will pay for this. Sorry, Father.’ Mann apologised for swearing.

‘Please…if I could say it, I would.’

The car fell silent as Father Finn concentrated on driving and farms replaced factories and the urban squalor. The land stretched out flat until it rose in the distance to the volcano beyond. They left the highway, to find houses crammed together in clusters at the edge of the road. They had no uniform style. The outsides were bright, gaudy and mostly looked half-finished. They were made from a variety of reclaimed and new materials: thatch-palmed roofs, corrugated iron and breeze blocks. Washing was hung over barbed wire and goats grazed beneath.

Mann had so much to think about. He needed to try and piece it together. Why had Becky been targeted? They hadn’t expected Mann back for an hour. They were taking their time, but they intended to kill her and leave her in the room. Otherwise they would have moved her straight away. It was not a kidnapping, it was a murder squad who thought they had time on their hands. But why Becky? Stevie Ho must be the reason. Those were Wo Shing Shing officers that Mann had killed. They were under orders from Stevie. But still, why Becky? Was it just because of her association with Mann? That was the last thing he wanted to believe, but it was the first thing that came into his head—
yes, in my own way, I am responsible again.

Becky stirred as the noise from the road disappeared and was replaced by the sounds of insects and birds, then the noise of children laughing.

‘We are here.’

They turned into a steep driveway that led up to a large multi-level building. It was made of wood and had a large balcony at the front. ‘Welcome to the Angeles refuge.’

‘It’s a lovely place, Father.’ Becky smiled at the sight of the children all running out to greet them, as before.

‘We are lucky that we have permission to build over this entire hill, so many of the workers live just a minute’s walk from here, in their own houses. Mercy and Ramon, that you met before in Davao, have a lovely house just on the other side of this hill.’ They were surrounded by children immediately. ‘Here is Mercy…’

As she came to greet them, Mann thought how she looked bigger than ever. In just a few days her shape had changed slightly, the baby was resting lower.

Mercy looked at Becky, concern in her face. ‘You need to rest, come…’

‘No, please, I’d rather not.’

Mercy looked at Becky and read her eyes. She saw that she meant it. She needed distraction. She did not want to be alone to think about things.

‘Come, then, someone is waiting for you.’

From the corner of her eye Becky saw Eduardo standing apart from the others, waiting to be seen. She smiled and beckoned him over. He took her hand.

‘He is still traumatised. We have therapy sessions where the children are encouraged to let go of their feelings, cry, scream, whatever it takes, but he is still not ready. It is early days for him.’

Becky sat down next to him on the porch. His eyes
were full of concern and his brow was furrowed as he looked at her battered face. She smiled, shook her head and pulled him closer.

Mann’s phone rang. He stepped out of earshot to answer it.

‘Yes, Ng?’

‘CK is on the move. He has been calling in officers from everywhere. He is preparing for battle. There are hundreds ready to go in London, Hong Kong and the Philippines. We have already had a few spark-offs here. Somebody tried to torch Miriam’s bar.’

‘Is she all right?’

‘She’s okay. Minimal damage, but the yakuza took it personally. Instead of stepping away from the fight they are stepping up to it. The place is buzzing with tension, Mann. I don’t think CK will back down, whatever happens.’

‘I still have till midnight.’

‘He doesn’t care about his daughter. He has been waiting for this day all his life.’