Never an Empire (16 page)

‘Yes, sir, I know. No trouble, you told me last time we met.'

‘But did you act on what I told you?'

‘Of course.'

Governor General Henry Clay Ide stood up and clasped his hands behind him. He thought, wrongly, that he cut a rather fine figure of authority in that particular pose.

‘Then perhaps you'll bring to mind what else I told you, that I don't like using you, that I'm not at all happy with the Secret Service meddling in politics, not here in the Philippines, not anywhere.'

‘I wasn't aware that my services were forced on you, sir.'

‘Don't be facetious with me or I'll have you bounced out of the Philippines in double quick time.'

‘And on this particular assignment I don't answer directly to the Treasury Department so strictly speaking I can't be a member of the United States Secret Service.'

‘To hell with your strictly speaking.' Ide leaned forward with his fists on the table and his face thrust forward. Another strong pose. He disliked this man intensely and had done ever since they had first met two months previously. For some time before the man arrived for this meeting Ide had been working up his mood. He intended to browbeat the man in no uncertain terms and still no matter who he answered to. ‘It was Governor Wright's decision to bring you into this, not mine. I wasn't consulted and would have opposed the idea if I had been. We don't need your sort of cloak and mask behaviour here. The business of the Filipino insurgents could have been better …'

‘Bandits, Governor, not insurgents. The law is very clear on that matter, but as a trained lawyer yourself you will be fully aware of that.'

Ide paused for a moment, almost struck another pose, thought better of it, then capitulated and sat down.

His predecessor, Luke Edward Wright, had been a disaster as governor general and when Commissioner Taft had finished his last visit of inspection a request for Wright's resignation had been inevitable. It was no more than he deserved. That Ide had been allowed to succeed from the post from vice governor was no more than a courtesy extended by Taft in recognition that he had done his best to mitigate the damage Wright had caused, but his tenure would be brief, no more than a face-saving exercise. Washington had already selected his replacement; the president himself, they said, had picked him: James Francis Smith. Ide felt no envy or regret. He had done his best but his best had not been good enough. No, he understood his position and he wished his successor well. Smith was a good choice. He had done excellent work for the Commission devising a legal code for the new possession. Of course it hadn't done his chances of selection any harm that he had served in the Rough Riders alongside Roosevelt in the late Philippine-American War. But he was still a good, sound choice.

Ide sat for a moment and considered his options. He was all too aware that his powers of effective action as governor general were almost nil and certainly didn't extend to the man sitting, oh so patiently, opposite him. He suspected, but would never be able to prove that President Roosevelt had been kept fully informed that a US agent was being sent to the Philippines to find a way of bringing the activities of General Macario Sakay to an end. One of the first acts required of Smith's governorship would be the inauguration of the new Philippine Assembly and there had to be no military opposition still functioning when that day came. Washington wanted the world to see that America was not nor ever would be any kind of imperial power. The Philippines, under its care, would be brought to self-government, albeit in a form which kept the reins of power effectively in American hands. To achieve that end Sakay had either to be defeated or made to surrender. There was no third course and time was slipping away all too quickly.

‘If he's assassinated all that will be achieved is his place being taken by one of his commanders; Sakay will be seen as a martyr and even more Filipinos will turn against us and join the rebels.'

‘No, Governor, I can assure you General Sakay is not going to be assassinated.'

‘What then?'

‘He will be persuaded.'

‘By whom?'

‘Dominador Gomez.'

That brought a derisive laugh.

‘Him. After his last failure?'

‘Yes, he failed but it wasn't entirely his fault, was it?'

‘He said he could bring in Sakay and he didn't. I'd say that was a pretty comprehensive failure and if it wasn't his fault I'd like to know whose it was.'

‘Well, perhaps it was yours, Governor.'

‘What do you mean, mine?'

‘Gomez had perfectly good credentials to approach Sakay. He was anti-American, organised strikes against our firms through his labour union, and as a result we sent him to prison for six years. Last year you offered to let him out on condition he brought Sakay and his men in from the mountains.'

‘So?'

‘So he agreed; what else would you expect him to do, stay another two years in prison? And when Gomez was suddenly released everyone knew that he must have done some sort of deal with us in order to get out. Everyone knows who Gomez is: one of their educated elite, has lived in Spain, in Madrid, mixed in society and politics and when he came home he made sure everyone knew about it.'

‘Well? Make your point.'

‘Once he was back here he got himself elected as leader of one of the most powerful unions and began his agitation. He loved to be centre stage, to be important, a leader. Dominador Gomez wasn't the sort to come out of prison and fade away. You wouldn't need to be a deep thinker to work out that Gomez had sold out and committed himself to our view of the future for the Philippines, one that made sure it stayed under our care and protection with all the important decisions made in Washington. Not a colony, no of course not, but ours to govern as we saw fit and any sort of true independence so far in the future it would be out of sight. The day Gomez left prison everyone knew he was in our pocket. So if you were Sakay sitting with your army in the mountains and the first thing Gomez did was turn up, you ask him and his men to put down their weapons then hand himself over to the Americans who would see you got a fair deal, would you believe him?'

Ide didn't like it but he had to admit it was pretty much what had happened. Sakay had sent Gomez packing with no return invitation and none likely to be forthcoming. The whole thing had been hurried and badly botched. But he wasn't going to admit that to this man.

‘And what alternative was there? The Philippine police with army support have done all they could and got nowhere. Should I have thrown the full weight of our military at him and started another Philippine-American war?'

‘No. You were right. Gomez was your only choice. He's still our only choice.'

‘Oh? After your analysis I would have thought Sakay would be more likely to listen to me than Gomez.'

The man gave Ide a look of false surprise.

‘Well done, Governor, just what I was going to say. Sakay will listen to you, and he will listen to Gomez this time.'

Ide managed to contain his anger at the patronising insult. Despite himself he was interested.

‘Go on.'

‘I have arranged to put someone close to Sakay, someone he can trust absolutely, someone he'll listen to. My man will persuade him that even if Gomez is working for the Americans, which this time Gomez will freely admit, the offer he brings from you is genuine. It will take a little time, it can't be rushed, but I think that before too long talks between Sakay and Gomez may very well resume and with a fair chance of a suitable outcome.'

‘And Gomez will offer Sakay what on my behalf?'

‘Whatever he wants.'

‘What he wants is Washington to guarantee Filipino independence. Should we offer him that?'

‘No.'

‘I thought not.'

‘The offer won't be from Washington. The offer will be you as governor general.'

Ide sat back. He had heard the words clearly enough but they made no sense and whatever else this man was, he was no fool.

‘Explain yourself.'

‘The new Philippine Assembly will have to be convened before very much longer. The main stumbling block delaying that event is General Sakay. Gomez will point out that if Sakay gives up the armed struggle and allows the political route to open and function independence must and will inevitably flow from the new Assembly.' The man's tone undertook a slight but noticeable change. It became slightly oratorical, as might be heard from any populist politician. ‘Once a people set foot on the road to democracy their journey cannot be stopped, nor can they be turned aside. We, as Americans, who had to fight for our own emancipation from colonial oppression, know that better than anyone. Could anyone really believe that our president, Theodore Roosevelt, would stoop to offer a country only half its independence, the form but not the substance? Once the Philippine Assembly is a reality the next logical and unavoidable step must and will be full independence.' His tone and manner reverted. ‘Or something along those lines. Gomez will make General Sakay see that he's not promoting the Philippine independence by his resistance: he's delaying it.'

Ide thought about it for a moment, but only a moment.

‘Fine. Except that it's nonsense. The Assembly will have two houses and the Upper House will be run by us. The Filipinos will get the Lower House which will be no more than a talking shop. All the real legislation will be done by the Upper House and remain in our hands.'

‘I know that and you know that, Governor, but to the wider world it will look like the real thing, show them that we have no imperial ambitions in any lands that, for whatever reason, come under the Stars and Stripes. No American Empire.'

‘Never, never an empire.'

‘Of course. The very words I used myself only the other day to a priest in San Juan.'

Ide, annoyed at having the obvious spelled out for him, allowed himself a rare excursion into strong language.

‘And what the hell has a priest in San Juan got to do with anything?'

‘Quite a lot as it happens.'

‘Is he your man, the man Sakay is going to trust?'

The man paused for a second as if the question had raised a new idea.

‘In San Juan and the surrounding villages they say he's a saint even though he's still very much alive.'

‘That doesn't surprise me. These Filipinos have been under Rome's thumb so long they'd believe anything their Church tells them, but it makes a priest a good choice for you.'

‘Yes, a priest would have done, but a priest couldn't easily be close to the general often enough to work on him so, no, he's not the man.'

‘Then who?'

‘A man already in Sakay's army, a young officer who's been passed over for promotion once too often and has decided to make a future for himself by helping us.'

‘And Sakay will trust him?'

‘Oh yes. You see he's just brought off rather a grand coup. Four of Sakay's men were in the San Juan gaol waiting to be sent to Manila for trial and execution. I arranged that my man would be able to capture two policemen from San Juan and swap them for the men in gaol. It all went very smoothly and I'm told Sakay was impressed, very impressed indeed.'

‘I see.'

‘Of course I needed local help but the chief of police was most co-operative. He even agreed to use his nephew as one of the two men captured. There was never any risk of anything happening to the nephew but it made the whole thing look so much more convincing. Then there was a young woman.'

‘A young woman?'

‘A very pretty young woman, very attractive.'

‘And what sort of help did she give.'

Ide, a prude by both upbringing and inclination, immediately regretted the question as the man sat back and gave him a knowing leer.

‘What sort of help do you think she gave, Governor?'

‘I see.'

And, regrettably, he did.

Chapter Nineteen

It was mid-morning, Father Enrique was on his morning routine of visitations and Maria, as she did almost every day, was in the market doing her day's shopping. She bought the usual things, met the usual friends, heard the usual gossip. She departed only slightly from her routine by stopping in front of a woman from the countryside who had laid out some pale green fruits which looked like small mangoes. This bitter fruit had different names in different parts of the country. In Tagalog it was the paho, elsewhere it was the poupuan or the pangi. The tree which bore the fruit grew abundantly in the wild and was harvested by country people. In the towns it was less popular but still commanded a small following among those who had been brought up on it as children before they or their families migrated to some larger centre.

The woman sat while Maria stooped down and examined the fruit. The market had been bustling since early morning but there was still plenty of fruit in front of the woman. She must have walked in from the countryside in the very first light and Maria was impressed that so small a woman could have carried the load which was now neatly laid out on a straw mat in front of her.

‘Did you bring all this yourself?' The woman nodded. ‘Do you not have a man who could carry such a load for you?'

‘I have a son but he is too busy.'

‘A good son should never be too busy to help his mother.'

‘True.'

‘Perhaps your son will bring in the paho next time you collect it.'

‘He might.'

‘When will you collect it again?'

‘There will be paho in the market here on this day next week.'

‘And your son will bring it?'

‘I will ask him.'

‘Good.'

Then they haggled about the price until Maria finally bought half a dozen of the fruit, put them in her basket, and went on her way.

She knew what would be Father Enrique's response when she put his plate before him.