Rebels of Mindanao (15 page)

Starke had been in counterinsurgency operations in his past career and picked up the thread. “If they're not paid for fighting and if they're not forced to give up their guns by some outside government foreign to them, they'll melt back into the jungle because they simply have to find food to live. We can just ignore them and the revolution will dry up through lack of interest.”

“But we can't create a Christian crusade against their Islamic jihad. That would mean civil war in Mindanao.” Elaiza wrapped it up.

“You got it.” Thornton took the lead again, “Now we know who the enemy is and what his mission is. He doesn't know about STAGCOM. There is just one key guy for us to take out as far as we care, so with stealth and secrecy, our small team is more likely to get him than a bunch of uniforms bumbling around in the brush.” Thornton laid it all out for them.

Starke answered, “If he knows nothing about us, we have the tactical advantage.”

Elaiza furrowed her eyebrows. “How do
we
know
where
he is?”

Starke followed along in the conversation, “And if we find him, we just bump him off as soon as we get him, right?”

Thornton turned and looked directly at Starke. “Wrong, we'll have to find him, and follow him, and keep the money from reaching the NPA leaders.”

“And then defeat them so they'll not be able to bring the tribes along with them into the revolution,” Elaiza concluded.

Thornton agreed, “Yes, if we can accomplish that mission Hargens—and especially someone back in D.C. I owe a lot to—will be satisfied. Then the official powers that be can get involved and defeat any larger insurrection, and without international embarrassment.”

“If he really has five million U.S. dollars, he can create a lot of attention here.” Starke could see the money being spread around. “So why not just eliminate him and forget about it?”

“Because,” Thornton explained what Hargens had told him, “The Al Qaeda in Syria would simply send someone else with more money. But if we track him and wait until he gets to Kumander Ali, the NPA leader, and take Ali out too, then the Abu Sayaf get embarrassed and lose their support base, after all the promises they will have made. That leaves the Philippine Army a short time frame to come in and mop up the hangers-on.”

“Again, what do we do with the money, can we keep it?” Starke intended to be sarcastic, but Thornton took his question seriously.

“Yes. That's the deal. No one back in Manila or in Washington needs to decide what to do with the captured money. Some unit of the Philippine Army can declare victory in a field campaign, the NPA resources
dry up, and the Abu Sayaf is bankrupt. Then the squabbling rebel groups won't be able to unite, lacking the capability to support a force in the field.”

“What's the downside?” Starke asked.

“We die, for example. Nobody will come after us if we're captured. Or we just wind up wasting time.”

“Who knows about all this?” Elaiza had been paying attention. “In our government in the Philippines, I mean?”

Thornton thought it was a fair question with no risk for his team to be informed; they had the right to know most of the details.

“Very few people, the National Security Advisor to the President of the Philippines will have to know. Liu, of course. The President himself will say he was not aware. Cabals like this go on all the time, as you know. And one senior officer, whose name is best kept secret, will know. That's all.”

“How do we find this Al Qaeda agent?” Elaiza asked.

“As you know, he's already here,” Thornton reiterated. “But intelligence sources could not track him after he landed and, we suppose, joined the Abu Sayaf. But they will show up and do something obvious. They will want to make a lot more noise than the three bombings this week. When we hear it, that's where we'll go. It will happen soon.”

Starke looked at Elaiza then at Thornton, “I have only one more question. How do we split the money?”

“
O
k. Let's start now. We have a lot to do, right, Kapitan Tomas?” Elaiza liked to play name games; she never lost at Scrabble played in English, which was not even her mother tongue. She knew by now that Thornton was a U.S. Military Academy graduate and had been an army captain. In her school she had learned about a certain Kapitan Tomas de Monteverde, Philippine Maritine Academy, an officer in the Philippine Navy centuries before, who married the daughter of Don Damaso Suazo of Davao City nobility. Monteverde was an early settler in Mindanao, and brought the concept of the fresh water fish farm to Davao. Now a main street and a residential area of Davao City were named after him. So it seemed appropriate for her to call Thornton Kapitan Tomas as he had brought Elaiza back to Davao, and their assignment had taken her in a new direction in her life.

“Yes, we do. It will be an important day. I want to get Pedro and the other Otazas on board with us and together with Starke.”

“Your Sergeant Starke looks eager now, working out and jogging. By the way, Pedro has a large family back in Agusan, if you need more troops for our venture,” Elaiza reminded Thornton. “And being family who live in the same village they know each other better than most brothers.”

“Thanks, we'll see. We have to keep STAGCOM as small as possible, just enough men to do the job, no more.” Thornton was pleased with the prospect of having a potential team of irregulars who knew and trusted each other. “Ask Pedro to get his four brothers here now; see if they'll join up with us.”

“Pedro's nearby. I'll get him moving.” Elaiza was picking up the ball quickly; Thornton liked that.

Elaiza made a call to a
sari-sari
store, a temporary stall built next to the gutter on the main street where a woman sold general merchandise and foodstuffs in small quantities, asking her to locate Pedro and to have him call her back. He would be near the store, waiting for Elaiza's call. Pedro was living in a lean-to he had erected against the concrete wall surrounding Our Lady of Prague monastery, overlooking Davao City. He preferred staying on his own in the improvised shelter since he had ridden in from Agusan with Elaiza and Thornton, waiting to see what Elaiza would want him to do after the terrorist bombs had gone off.

Waiting for Pedro to call back, Thornton suggested, “Let's have a pig roast on the beach; a big party with music should be a good incentive for them all to get here quickly.”

“OK. Great idea. I'll set it up.” Elaiza was starting to identify with her job, in spite of her earlier reservations. “They can meet Sergeant Starke and get to know him.” A few minutes later she received the return call from Pedro and explained the situation to him.

“I can have my brothers get into Davao, but it interrupts Robelyn's marriage plans,” he told her. He sounded uncertain.

Elaiza had an inspiration. “How about, bring them all, with their families, and we'll have the wedding on the beach, Manobo style?”

“Deal.” Pedro answered quickly, and he started to talk faster and louder as he discussed arrangements with Elaiza. “Tomorrow soon enough?”

As soon as he hung up, he left the
sari-sari
store with a proud strut that made his old sandals flop audibly as he prepared to make a quick trip to
Agusan to round up his brothers. He would be remembered as the one to invite the whole family to a special occasion.

The rest of the day Thornton and Elaiza continued to plan, with books and maps spread out on the long table set up outside on the second floor balcony of Thornton's house in Toril. It seemed each learned from the other as they practiced translating the Schloss Code and studied the capabilities of the TIAM.

The next afternoon Pedro showed up in Toril with his four brothers from Agusan del Sur. They came with their families, seventeen people arriving twisted and cramped into a twelve-seat jeepney. The extended Otaza family brought with them, tied with ropes on the roof of the jeepney, a fat sow past her litter-bearing years, who would show up later on the beach for dinner, cardboard boxes full of fruit, and a few skinny gift chickens to be kept alive in a crate until the next day. The new arrivals had not eaten during the five-hour trip so they all got together for a lunch of rice first. While the children and their mothers finished the rice, Juanito, the youngest Otaza brother, slaughtered the sow, catching its blood to make
dinuguan
by frying the intestines in it. Later the assemblage took the pig carcass to the beach at a place that Elaiza had arranged. The men chopped the pig into one-inch cubes with a sharp bolo while the women started three charcoal fires smoking under a palm tree near the black sand beach. The cooks flopped pieces of fatty pig meat onto makeshift grills formed from rusty construction re-bar found at nearby construction sites and overcooked the meat, eating the blackened, greasy chunks by hand, with great satisfaction. The crew was lucky to have several pans of burned meat left over for the next day, as well as the
dinuguan
, which apparently was better after it aged for a day or so. The band of Manobos, including all five of the Otaza brothers now, could live comfortably as squatters where branches of short trees hung over the beach.

Starke enjoyed watching the preparations, somewhat amazed by the native customs. “Pedro and his brothers seem to be having a good time,” he said to Elaiza.

“Wait 'til they start to sing!” Elaiza knew what was coming.

“Excuse me. I think I'll try some burned meat, with rice … and maybe a long swig of brandy.”

Thornton opened a few bottles of cheap Fundador brandy, and soon the cooked meat started to smell not so bad, even to Starke. The five Otaza brothers started to sing. Vicente played an old guitar mean, by ear, reviving American pop music of the 1950s, even though he himself was only in his early thirties. Reymundo looked exactly like Chuck Berry in 1959 with his sweptback pompadour, and he sang old time rock and roll at the semi-pro level. Of course, Thornton remembered when, and sang along with the remix of Platters hits. Pedro sang tenor and played percussion on anything. Tonight he chose the rice pot upside down and two spoons. He sang loudly, and in tune. Two of the young Agusan girls had beautiful soprano voices and pressed in to sing beside the men. The musicians and the audience sang louder, and Pedro had to make a list in writing on a note pad of their torrent of requests to get them all in. It was a unique opportunity to bond, and Robelyn's wedding was the perfect occasion for all their purposes. The dinner preparations and songfest signaled the start of the ceremony, the highlight of the evening.

In the old days, it was assumed among some of the tribes that the man is too timid to propose marriage to a woman, so marriages were arranged after a suitable dowry was agreed, as much as a horse and a few carabaos, perhaps with a hand-carved betel nut container added to the pot to seal the deal. Virginity was important, without which the dowry was greatly reduced.

Pedro himself beat on the ceremonial brass
agong
as the groom danced and gradually settled in beside his bride to join her in eating a large bowl of rice with boiled birds' eggs. A priestess chanted in the Manobo dialect to Timanum, the Supreme Being, who some thought lived in the ocean and some thought lived on the mountain; they were not certain where he lived, but the frequent earthquakes seemed to prove he lived in the earth. The priestess prayed to a
manong
, an exquisitely carved wooden idol representing the Supreme Being, and the marriage was sealed. The bride and groom danced together around the fire while the
agong
accompanied modern instruments; variations of Chuck Berry styles seemed to creep into the musical legends of the tribe.

When the mood cooled with the night, the participants in the ceremonies gathered to give thanks also to the Christian God. Pedro asked Luz, one of the older of the young girls, to sing something religious, and
she gave full force to
Oh Holy Night
, backed up by Vicente and a chorus of almost two-dozen voices. Singing seems to be a Filipino birthright, and the impromptu open-air choir sang with talent and force. When a quieter time came, Thornton got the Otaza brothers together and sat with them by the fire under the leafy banyan tree that protected them from the light drizzle that was starting. Elaiza translated while he laid out his plan and his offer to Pedro and the four other Otaza brothers who were not yet committed.

“Gentlemen, I have a dangerous job to do. I need some help, and would like you to work with me. You do not have to trust me, just trust your niece; Elaiza will be with us all the way. And your brother, Pedro, has already agreed to work for me.”

“We are here already.” Reymundo was ready to get involved. “It's easy for us to stay. The women will go back to Agusan and take care of the land and animals.”

“Good.” Thornton wanted to put them at ease. “Master Sergeant Starke will help me train you for this specific mission, although I know you already know your way around. He has combat experience and can help you. Think of him as your point man on patrol. I will lead the overall operation with Elaiza handling communications between us in the field and the people I work for.” Thornton did not tell the Otazas the details about his deal with Hargens; if he got the money, he'd take care of them in a fair way.

“I've seen your ability with firearms, and I'm comfortable with how you handle yourselves and your bolos, knowing what your brother can do. STAGCOM will provide new rifles, good rifles that shoot straight. Do any of you have licenses to carry?”

There was some grinning and chuckling.

“Mr. Thornton, we're not even able to get government identity cards.” Vicente got involved in the fun. “When we were born, no one wrote anything down. We don't have birth certificates. We are born, we live, we die, we disappear, and we don't have documents for any of these events.”