Rebels of Mindanao (22 page)

“Two or three people are killed every day around here, on the
average. Why is his death so different?” Hayes had read local newspaper stories about civilians being murdered, a few Abu Sayaf killed, or AFP soldiers lost in action. “You read the news on the air.”

“Well, several things are new. The Americans are involved in combat in the Philippines this time, which is against this country's constitution, and I bet is not known about by most Filipinos. It's probably also kept secret from most Americans and even the American Congress. The world is getting very strange, Hayes—hard to tell who the bad guys are.” The German shared his doubts with the major. “It's time to decide what is good and right and then to act decisively.”

“Take it easy, Wolfgang, all wars are not Blitzkriegs. Timing is important. We have to wait until the Turk and his Abu Sayaf buddies link up with the local insurgents, so the whole network can be exposed and exterminated, or our entire undertaking will be a waste of time. Whether STAGCOM gets the money and gets away with it is not the issue for either the U.S. government or the Philippines. We've got to help our friend. If all Thornton does is take the money, Al Qaeda will just arrange for another shipment to be carried in by some new emissary.”

Moser didn't quite understand. “But if the joint task force of Philippine Army and the police forces hit exactly at the right moment, and hard, perhaps once and for all they could wipe out the separatist movement.”

Hayes didn't know what to say, didn't know how much Thornton had told Moser, so he probed, “With all that power, why do you think they need STAGCOM, two foreigners who don't speak the language, and Elaiza's five uncles?”

“Hum. Well, I understand why Thornton asked you and me to work the Schloss Code with all this secretiveness.”

“OK, educate me.”

The German had a realistic perspective: “If any politicians got to the money, they could go to jail. Or get bumped off.”

“Bureaucrats here do lots of things they could go to jail for. Why would they get politically correct and cautious all of a sudden?” Hayes knew the informal ways to get things done, involving pesos and personal connections.

“Because they want to win this war themselves; but your countrymen don't think they can. America is busy ‘building democracy' in other
countries. American politicians think the Philippines is in their back pocket, but they assume too much.” The German continued, “Some of their military leaders, like Thornton's connection, General Hargens, know better, but nobody listens to them. So the top guys have to act, as they say, clandestinely.”

The major was reassured to hear that Moser was so well informed. It put him at ease knowing that he could talk more openly. Hayes stood, propped against a high case of old VHS tapes that Moser used in his program and listened to the music.

“Want a beer?” Moser asked him. He wanted to help the lanky American relax while they waited. “Help yourself to one out of the cooler.” The record he was playing was almost over, and he would soon have to cut back to live commentary.

“Sure.” He got a San Miguel for himself while Moser switched to his on-air voice, using more of a foreign accent than normally, what he called his sweet voice, to introduce Vivaldi. Soon the sounds of the “Four Seasons” were on their way to all of Mindanao, where there were only two seasons, summer and monsoon, and he had time to talk with Hayes again.

“Major Hayes, OK, I understand why both the Filipinos and the Americans needed Thornton and his team, but why would
he
want to get involved?”

“There's a sizable cash reward, as you know.” Hayes again tested Moser's knowledge of the operation. Thornton had revealed that Moser had his confidence, but Hayes wanted to be sure he was not telling the German something new. The look in Moser's eyes gave no indication of surprise.

“I have that impression. But I know both of you guys; I've seen you together and apart. You're not poor, but you will never be wealthy; that's not what drives you army guys. This is not a money thing for you. It's about that Eastern Europe deal, isn't it?” Moser let Hayes think while the music played, then turned to his microphone and spoke to his public, reading some text messages. When he had the chance, he continued, “It's about what happened to that woman too, isn't it?”

Hayes became more at ease; he had guessed correctly that Thornton had few secrets from Moser. When the D.J. pulled his headphones off
for a few minutes, he continued. He wanted Moser to know. “Although Thornton was in Vietnam, he was not involved in close combat. But many of his West Point classmates did the real fighting, and some of them were killed.

He had some kind of staff job, and he certainly did not volunteer for combat. His Purple Heart was incidental; he just was in the wrong place at the right time.”

“Well, good for him. During those years I was having a ball at the ‘Uni' in Vienna. I wouldn't have liked to have been in his combat boots.” That war had little relevance for Moser or for most Europeans.

“Some of his classmates went on to become generals. He became a businessman.” Hayes continued.

“Everybody must follow his own path, Major Hayes. Generals fight wars so businessmen can build nations.”

“Idealist. I still think it bothers him, but he keeps it to himself. Except for this Hargens guy, and Charlie Downs. He can talk to them.”

“Maybe he hasn't figured it all out yet for himself. Let the clock tick a while longer. He'll get it right.” Moser put his headphones back on just as the music ended and he had to ad lib for a while until he found his notes and the next record to play.

When the music started again Moser continued. “I've lived here a long time; my wife is a native. Mindanao would be a much better place to live in if
everybody
would leave it alone.”

Then it came. Hayes's cell phone vibrated, and he read the text message from the embassy, a series of key phrases to be forwarded in code to Thornton. Hayes worked out a script in English for Moser to incorporate in an innocuous way into his reading of the requests and song dedications. He handed the text to Moser, who translated the key words into German. After the music now being transmitted was over, Moser would send the message over the air using the Schloss Code.

Trailing the Abu Sayaf, Thornton and Elaiza heard unusual rustlings ahead of them, but the patrol no longer seemed to be moving forward. The rebels were making an opening with their bolos chopping a semicircle
of open space, a cul de sac at the end of a tube they had pushed through the jungle, where they would put up nets and string hammocks. When the noises ceased, Thornton correctly took the silence to mean that the patrol had halted, and so he did as well, a scant hundred yards to the immediate rear of the insurgents.

“Elaiza, let's sit down here, it's waiting time again. We need to rest when we can.”

They settled down on the ground facing opposite directions, their backs propped against each other as before, and made themselves as comfortable as they could.

“Hook up the iPod,” Thornton whispered. Elaiza plugged in the earpiece, tuning it to Moser's regular program on 90.3 FM, Radio Mindanao. They dozed, reclining close together as sleep came, intermittently. Then finally, about midnight, the coded message came, and for the second time the Schloss Code worked. The D.J.'s night program was nearing the end when the message for Thornton came through.

“And for my loyal listener Herr Handkuss in Isulan” … A pause … Thornton knew that the improbable name Handkuss, Austrian dialect for greeting a noble lady by kissing her hand, was tonight's signal. It told him the embassy knew Elaiza was with him in the jungle and confirmed with those few words that STAGCOM was ready to hit the Abu Sayaf whenever he gave the word. From his map reconnaissance and only one key word from Moser, Thornton deduced that the Abu Sayaf patrol was headed toward Isulan. Lateef was leading his team as straight as he could through the brush in that direction. The message also confirmed that the spy satellite had picked up Elaiza's slight back and forth movement and that the embassy had correctly understood her transmission.

Moser continued his program, and between the next two requests mumbled in German, “Silvaner Silvaner Riesling,” the cardinal directions for south by southwest and later, after another dedication, the single word, “Hauptstrasse.”

Using his flashlight under his tarp, Thornton studied the map. The coded message he had received was clear: the STAGCOM team had moved to a new location on the main highway, south by southwest of his position, and that they knew where he was. Starke had relocated
STAGCOM into an attack position near the spot where the Abu Sayaf had set down for the night. Thornton would observe the enemy patrol to be sure they stayed in place, then hike over to STAGCOM and lead them in a surprise attack just before dawn. The Abu Sayaf outnumbered STAGCOM, but they would be asleep and it would be easy to take out the Turk, and get the big bags he had with him.

Thornton dozed off, but a few hours later woke up quickly as was his old army habit, wide-awake moments after being sound asleep. It was well after midnight and above the trees floated a skinny silver sliver, the concave semicircle of a very new moon, unexplainably bright. How could it be so bright with the sun rising soon behind it? Could it be the reflection of the South Pacific upon it, or was it a phenomenon caused by the relative positions of the sun and moon? It just did not make sense, he thought, but it was unique and beautiful. Elaiza stirred beside him, pushing against him in her sleep.

Thornton awakened her. “I have an idea. This might be easier than we thought.”

Elaiza was groggy only for a moment.

“Elaiza, send a signal. Confirm our receipt and understanding of Moser's previous transmission.”

Elaiza twice moved back and forth five steps directly along her previous path. The tracking device was calibrated to her person, to her dimensions and footstep characteristics. The TIAM component traced her every footstep with or without a continuous GPS connection, then the module sent its stored data in batches whenever it could connect to the spy satellite. The intelligence team back in the lab at the U.S. Embassy in Manila would get the data, and know how old each bit of information was. From the raw data, the computer would show Elaiza's exact location and her precise movements as well as the time each footstep was taken, and then chart her trail on a large-scale map the techies could see on their computer screen. By her movements on the ground, Elaiza was confirming back to them that she knew the location of Starke and STAGCOM.

“Should I draw the circle?” Elaiza asked.

“No.” Thornton told her, “I want to take them out with a surprise attack by STAGCOM.” He did not want Elaiza to send the signal for a
fire mission from the air force. “We don't need additional help; Mahir and his Abu Sayaf buddies are settled in for a while, probably planning to spend the entire day tomorrow hiding; it's almost morning already.

“We'll get to Starke and the men, and attack; we're close enough to get STAGCOM and lead them back before the Abus move out again. We can at least kill enough of them to take over the camp, get to the money, and get out of here. Leave the rest of that Muslim hit squad for Colonel Lui and the Philippine Army to mop up. The good guys would win again.”

“When do we go?” Elaiza was standing up and tucking herself together.

“Wait for the beginning of early morning light so that we can find our way to Starke and your uncles on the highway.”

“I can't sleep. My mind is racing, and it's uncomfortable.”

“Try counting sheep.”

“Is that what you did on your farm in Pennsylvania, growing up?”

“No, it's just a saying in English, something to do to make yourself get tired and help you go to sleep. We had cows. It was boring enough though, that's why I left.”

“I see. Let me guess. You left home when you were a young farm boy, and over and over again you left women behind, greener fields and younger crops to mow, whether you loved them or not, even whether you had kids or not with them.”

“You left your home too, for greener pastures.”

“It's very different. My mother died, and my father had to work on that damn dam to support eight kids, but you, you are an orphan by choice.”

“An orphan of choice? I never disavowed my parents.”

“You left your own family. How can anyone trust you?”

“What was the name of that Philippine Eagle?”

“You mean Kabayan?”

“Yeah. Kabayan. They want to release young eagles to fly free. Birds fly. Try counting sheep, you need some sleep before dawn.”

Elaiza relaxed. Later, comforted by his presence, she slid her hand under Thornton's shirt, resting it on his chest until first light finally came. He noticed.

After the long and uncomfortable night, they left their position and moved as quietly as they could the five hundred yards to where they expected to find Starke, Pedro, and the rest of STAGCOM on the main road.