Decker's Dilemma (22 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

1240, Tuesday, February 25

Ducky returned with bad news. “No way out now,” he said. “Plenty of protestors at the gates. Looks like things are going to explode any minute.”

They all took a seat at a table along the north wall. Decker took out his Book of Dates and began writing. Vega put her head on the table. Rusty leaned back in his chair, while Hack folded his arms and sighed. Ducky broke the silence. “Rusty told me about your adventures with Agana,” he said softly. “Take his advice and stay away.”

“Too late for that,” Decker countered. “We're in this too deep.”

“He owns the town,” Ducky warned. “He's not someone to be messed with.”

Vega popped her head up. “What do you mean, he ‘owns the town?'”

“He has taken over the entire province from Fortuno. There was a brief power struggle, but with Marcos' protection gone, Agana gained the upper hand. That is why Fortuno retired. It was a forced retirement.”

“We know Agana's running the black market,” Hack added. “I saw proof of that today.”

“It is more than the black market,” said Ducky. “He is the new
jueteng
lord of the territory.”

“
Jeuteng
?” the American sailors said in unison.

“It's a numbers game,” Vega said. “Popular with everyone, rich and poor.”

“Can there really be that much money in it?” Decker asked.

“A lot of money,” Ducky said. “Billions of pesos a year across the country. Most of it goes into the
jueteng
lords' pockets, but a lot also goes into the pockets of politicians, police chiefs, and district attorneys. Enough money to keep everyone quiet.”

“What do you know about Agana's
jueteng
operation?” asked Vega. She handed him the paper she nabbed from Agana's filing cabinet. “I've known for a long time he was involved with gambling, but I thought it was just with casinos.”

Ducky studied the document. “This is a
jueteng
worksheet,” he said. “No names listed to protect people. Just numbers. The two numbers in columns are the draws. The one circled was probably the one they wanted to win. It is rigged. Everyone knows it. They always pay out to the numbers with the lowest amount of bets. That is how they make so much money.”

“Why do people bet on it if it's rigged?” asked Hack.

“Hope,” said Rusty. “Especially for poor people. If they bet a peso and win 400, that is a big payday for them. It is part of society.”

“He is right,” Ducky agreed. “Each territory has a capitalista, the one who finances the operation. That is Agana in Olongapo. Or, I should say, it is his son, Angelito Agana Jr., although he goes by his nickname, Lito.”

“I didn't know he had a son,” Vega said. “How old is he?”

Ducky shrugged. “Lito is probably mid-twenties by now. His father is grooming him to take over someday. Step one is to run the
jueteng
operation.”

“What are these numbers?” asked Decker, pointing to a row of letters with numbers written beside each one.

“Those are the
cobradores
. They go out each day and collect bets. They are usually women.”

Decker jabbed Hack in the ribs with his elbow. “Those are the women we saw going into Agana's building.”

“Probably so,” Ducky said. “They report to
cabos
who collect the money and act as salesmen for the operation. The cabos report to a table manager. He runs the day-to-day- operation. He reports to the
capitalista
. In Olongapo it is Lito Junior.

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Hack sighed. “I can't believe they don't get caught.”

Ducky laughed. “Like I said, the
jueteng
lord makes sure everyone is paid off. “See these notes,” he said, pointing to the bottom of the paper. “It looks like they paid ‘N' 10,000 pesos this particular week. Another 10,000 went to ‘G' and 5,000 each to ‘L' and ‘L2.”

“Who are those people?” asked Vega.

“I have no idea,” said Ducky. “Maybe names or titles. Who is your police chief?”

“Inspector Navarro,” Decker said.

“There you go,” Ducky smiled. “Maybe ‘N' is Navarro. It makes sense.”

“And the district attorney is Antonio Gonzales,” Vega whispered.

“The ‘L's' could be someone with the same name, maybe a senior and junior,” Ducky added. “Or people with the same job title.”

Vega thought for a moment. “I don't know who that could be. I'll have to think about it.”

Ducky tapped the note. “This is interesting. Angelito Junior has someone helping to finance the operation. The letter ‘P' shows up two times with dollar amounts. It is being paid into the operation rather than outgoing payoffs. Here is one payment for 18,450 pesos on December 27.”

Vega snatched the paper from Ducky. “I don't know anyone with the name ‘P,'” she said, folding the paperwork into her pocket.

“Could be anybody,” Ducky shrugged. He stood and put his hands on Rusty's shoulders. “I will go check things.”

The hours crept by as the group huddled in the corner of the library. Decker and Hack drifted off to sleep. Vega and Rusty quietly chatted as Ducky came by to check on them from time to time. “Not yet,” was all he ever said. “Crowd outside is too big. No one coming or going.”

At 2030 all that changed. A hurried group of military personnel passed through the library, oblivious to the strangers lounging in the southeast corner of the spacious hall. Ducky came running by a minute later. “Marcos is leaving,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “Helicopters are landing across the river in the presidential park. We need to—”

Ducky stopped talking and snapped to attention. A lean middle-aged Filipino general in full-dress military attire emerged through a door on their left. The rest of the group slowly stood, not sure what was going to happen.

The general turned to Ducky and spoke softly but firmly. “Load the boats.
Bilisan mo
.”

“Yes, sir,” Ducky said. “We are on our way.”

The man nodded and walked away, heading up a set of stairs and disappearing into one of the many rooms of the palace.

“That was General Ver,” Ducky whispered. “Marcos' right hand man. He wants us to take some luggage to the boats waiting to cross the Pasig River. We need to hurry.”

Decker saluted. “We've got our orders. And it's our ticket home.”

Ducky led the group out of the library and into a passageway lined with paintings of famous Filipinos and historical events. Decker recognized depictions of Lapu-Lapu, Magellan, the Filipino-American War, the great patriot Emilio Aguinaldo, and the Japanese occupation during WWII. He was familiar with some of the former presidents: Osmeña, Quezon, Magsaysay, and, of course, Marcos. He made a mental note to someday find out who else was depicted in the murals.

Heroes Hall buzzed with activity, the mirrored ceilings making it seem even more crowded. Ducky led his new friends to a group of Filipino military men.

Soon the elevator door opened. The president and first lady emerged from the elevator and walked by their luggage.

General Ver followed a step behind. “Get this luggage across the river and into the helicopters coming from the U.S. Embassy grounds,” he barked.

The military personnel gave a “yes, sir” in unison but none of the soldiers was quick to pick up the bags. President Marcos greeted each soldier, quietly mumbling a ‘thank you' to each one. Imelda, openly weeping, shook hands with each person she passed, dabbing her eyes dry with a white handkerchief with her free hand. When she approached Decker and Hack, she paused and said “bless you” quietly to the sailors.

Hack stood speechless.

“It is an unfortunate hour,” Decker said, solemnly. “My bosses at the embassy regret that it's come to this.”

Vega nudged Decker to quiet him, but it went unnoticed. “Bless you,” Imelda said once again and continued her final walk through Malacañang. When the first family left the hall, Ducky pulled Decker and Hack aside. “There's more luggage in the basement,” he said. “I need some help.”

Vega jumped in front of Decker. “I'm going, too.”

“
Sige
,” said Ducky. “But we have to be quick.” He glanced at Rusty who waved him off, obviously wanting no part in the evening's events.

The trio followed Ducky down a flight of stairs to the basement. Ducky turned on a light. “This is below Imelda's bedroom.”

Four pieces of luggage set on the floor at the end of a vestibule.

“Geez, how much clothes do these people need?” Vega said. “I counted 18 suitcases up in the hall.”

Ducky was apparently in no mood for chit chat. “Grab everything. We must hurry.”

The sailors grabbed the suitcases, but a screech from Vega halted their progress.

“Check this out,” she yelled from a nearby room.

“What is it?” asked Decker, grimacing at the weight of the luggage. “These are kinda heavy.”

“Shoes.”

“There's more?” asked Hack.

“I don't think they're planning to take these,” Vega said. “You need to see this. It's like a department store in here.”

The guys dropped what they were holding and peeked into the spacious room. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of shoes lined racks along each wall. Several more rows of shoes filled the middle of the room.

Vega sat in a chair and tried on a pair red pumps. “These would go with a dress I have.”

“No time for that,” Ducky urged. “Let's get moving.”

“They're too big for me anyway,” Vega shrugged. She hustled from the room and grabbed an oversized bag. “Come on guys, I'm waiting on you.”

Ten minutes later they sat in a motor boat crossing the Pasig River, the sound of rowdy protestors filling the night air behind them. The boat tied to a pier on the south bank of the Pasig and the group carried the suitcases to a waiting Sikorsky HH-3E search-and-rescue helicopter courtesy of the American military. The first family had already boarded another chopper that was taking off from the grounds. The U.S. Air Force flight crew member noticed the Americans loading the luggage and grabbed Decker by the arm. “Where are you from?” he yelled over the thumping of the rotor blades.

“The embassy,” Decker shouted.

“No you're not!”

Decker started to reply, but it was time to go. The pilot ordered the door closed, the crewman staring at Decker and Hack as the copter lifted off the ground, cleared the trees, and disappeared on its way to Clark Air Base.

Ducky led Rusty and his friends to a side entrance on the west side of the grounds, said good-bye, and watched as they walked away. The group hiked a few blocks south where they crossed the Ayala Bridge and slipped back to their car under the cover of darkness.

They arrived back in Olongapo shortly after midnight, exhausted from their day in Manila. News on the radio told of hundreds of protestors storming the palace grounds, looting what was left of Marcos' extravagance.

“That was fun,” Decker said as they reached the Olongapo city limits. “Sounds like we made it out of Manila just in time.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hack said. “We barely made it back to our car. That's not my idea of fun.”

“We made progress,” Decker said. “We know the black market operation is a fact.”

“We still don't have proof of Chief's involvement,” Hack said. “That's the whole reason for this.”

“We're close,” Decker argued.

“No we're not,” Hack countered. He looked at Vega for reassurance.

“You guys need to drop your investigation,” Vega said, yawning. “I'm serious this time. Finding out that Agana's involved with gambling and the black market only proves what I've suspected for a long time. I just need to figure out a way to tell my boss about it. And unless you guys suddenly get a lucky break that an American's also involved, there's no reason for you to go any further with it.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

1810, Thursday, February 27

“We've just had our break,” Decker announced, running up to Hack in the berthing.

“What break?”

“The break in the case.”

“I'm heading to Lee's,” Hack said. “We can take a break tomorrow.”

“No time for that,” Decker urged. “Chief is on his way to Agana's.”

“How do you know that?”

“I overhead a telephone conversation from the storeroom. I think it was with his wife.”

“He said he was going to Agana's?”

“Not exactly. He said he was heading ‘there.'”

“‘There' could be a lot of places.”

“I don't think so. He was secretive about it. He changed the subject when I climbed up the ladder. We need to follow him.”

“I'm not doing that again. Plus, Vega told us not to go there again. I'm going to follow her advice this time. And you should, too.”

“All we have to do is get to Agana's before Chief. We'll sit in the Jollibee and watch what he does.”

“No way,” Hack said. “I'm not going near that place again. Next time it might not end so well for us.”

“Alright,” Decker said, taking a deep breath. “I'm going alone.” He strolled out the berthing, determined.

Hack punched his bunk mattress and cursed under his breath.

* * *

Twenty minutes later the sailors sat at the Jollibee in a corner booth facing the window to the street. They ordered hamburgers and fries and ate slowly, patiently watching the building for thirty minutes. No one entered or exited the business.

“Not much activity today,” Hack said, fishing several folded pieces of paper from his back pocket.

Decker nodded while eating a French fry. “I doubt if it's a business people routinely visit. Most of the activity probably happens through the back entrance.”

“Here you go,” Hack announced, tossing the papers on the table.

“What are these?” asked Decker.

“The requisition lists. Against my better judgment, I did a quick inventory of the high priced items yesterday.”

Decker studied the papers in front of him. “I take back all the bad things I've said about you.”

“I'm thrilled to hear that.”

Decker quickly flipped through the documents. “The requisitions from December 24 and January 2 are obviously bogus,” he said, pointing to the papers. “The expensive parts never arrived on board. The same with the January 21 list.” Decker looked up at Hack. “If your inventory is accurate.”

“It's accurate,” said Hack.

“Just checking your confidence level,” Decker smiled. “The others seem to be legitimate requisitions. All of the parts are on board where they're supposed to be.” He handed the papers back to Hack. “Unfortunately, these don't tell us anything new.”

“What are you talking about? We have proof that someone on the
Harvey
is illegally ordering parts.”

“We've always suspected that,” Decker said. “But the lists don't tell us who placed the orders.”

Hack folded the papers and placed them back into his pocket. “So what are we going to do?”

Decker stared out the window towards Agana's. “We sit here and wait. Maybe we'll see something.”

“We could be here all night.”

“Let's give it a few minutes. I have a feeling about this.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Hack sighed.

They sat at Jollibee for another twenty minutes and were contemplating heading back to base when they noticed a man enter Agana's building. He was Filipino but neither Decker nor Hack got a good look at him.

“That's the first person we've seen go in or out of that place,” Hack said, looking at the clock behind the counter. “And it's been nearly forty-five minutes.”

“He was a businessman,” Decker said. “Not your typical person walking down the street.

“A businessman? He didn't look like it to me. He wasn't wearing a suit.”

Decker shook his head. “He wouldn't be. He was wearing a
barong tagalog
, and nice slacks and shoes. That's business attire in the Philippines.”

“Let's wait to see if he comes out,” Hack said.

Fifteen minutes later the man exited the building, turning right and heading east away from the Jollibee until Decker and Hack could no longer see him.

“I think he got in a car,” Decker said, craning his neck to see out the window. “I'm not sure, though. I might've lost sight of him. I saw a car pull up to the sidewalk and pick someone up. I couldn't tell if it was him or not.”

Hack sighed. “We've been here about an hour already and only one person went in to Agana's the entire time. At this rate we'll see two more people the rest of the night. I think we're wasting our time.”

“Maybe so,” said Decker, keeping his eyes on Agana's front door. “And then there's Pinto.”

“Pinto? What about him?”

“Remember? I thought I heard Baldy say ‘Pinto' the other day.”

“I thought I heard that, too,” Hack said. “But he was talking too fast and I don't know any Tagalog.”

“And he also said
kaibigan
which Vega said means ‘friend.' I think he was asking if we were friends of Pinto.”

Hack sat back in the booth. “Now you think Pinto's somehow involved?”

“I have no idea. But why would they say his name? And why would they even know the guy?”

“Maybe it's just a coincidence. It could've been a Tagalog word that sounds like Pinto.

“Maybe so,” said Decker. “But maybe … well, I'd better not say.”

“Say what?”

“Maybe Pinto
is
involved at some level. We know he has a connection to the supply depot.”

Hack sat up. “Don't go there.”

“It's just a theory.”

Hack paused momentarily before speaking. “She's not involved. I'm sure of it.”

“You hesitated,” Decker said. “What's going on?”

“It's nothing. I found some money at Lee's a while back.”

“What do you mean you found money?”

“I was getting something in her dresser and discovered cash she had hidden underneath some clothes. Six hundred dollars.”

“That's interesting,” Decker observed. “I wonder if—”

“She said it was for rent and bills,” Hack interrupted. “Lee's too honest to get into something like a black market scheme.”

“I'm sure you're right,” Decker said, taking the final bite of his hamburger. “Forget I said anything.”

The two sailors sat in the booth without speaking for five minutes, Decker reflecting on the chain of events of the past few weeks. He finally broke the silence. “Let's get out of here. We'll try again tomorrow.”

Decker began to stand when someone across the street caught his eye. “Holy shit!”

Hack turned to look. “What's Chief doing here?”

“We've got him,” announced Decker.

“Maybe he's running an errand,” Hack countered. “See, he went into that grocery store.”

“He could be doing a million things. But the fact is he's walking up the sidewalk towards Agana's.”

“So were we,” Hack reminded his friend.

“And we came out here because of Chief's conversation I overheard. We're finally getting somewhere. Let's watch him.”

“What, exactly, are we going to do if he goes in Agana's?”

“Nothing. We'll just watch him.”

“What good will that do?”

“It'll prove that he's involved with Agana. A known black market operator.”

“It'll prove nothing,” Hack said. “It'll prove that we saw him walk into Agana's, but he could say he walked in there by mistake or even say that it never happened. It'll be our word against his.”

“
We'll
know,” Decker said. “And then we'll be able to go to someone with the information. It may not be provable in a court martial, but it'll connect this dot for us.”

Fifteen minutes later Chief Fray emerged from the store carrying a brown plastic bag. He walked slowly up the street, towering over the Filipino pedestrians in his midst. He slowed almost to a stop at the entrance to Agana's, pausing briefly to examine the door before opening it.

“He's inside,” Hack said. “Now what?”

Decker glanced at his watch. “Let's see how long he stays in there.”

Chief Fray walked out five minutes later, actively engaged in a conversation with another man.

“There's Ponytail,” Decker said. “More proof that Chief's involved.”

“It doesn't look like a friendly discussion,” said Hack. “They seem to be arguing. I think that's all Ponytail knows how to do.”

“Could be a disagreement over a shipment.”

“Maybe we should do something.”

“Do what?”

“I don't know,” said Hack. “What if it turns into a fight?”

“Then we watch the fight. My money's on Chief. He's got at least fifty pounds on the guy.”

“At least that,” said Hack. “But I'm not so sure he'd win. He's too slow. There's Baldy.”

Seeing that he was outnumbered, Chief turned to walk away, retracing his steps towards the grocery store. Baldy and Ponytail started to follow but were held up by a third man that appeared on the sidewalk.

“That could be Agana or his son,” Decker said. “We need to follow Chief.”

“I'm not going out there now,” Hack protested. “They'll see us and it'd be a rerun of our previous encounter.”

“I don't see them anymore,” Decker said. “They must've gone inside.”

Chief walked down the sidewalk obviously angry at something, talking to himself and swinging his arms. At the intersection in front of Jollibee, he flagged a jeepney, hopped in, and headed toward base. Decker and Hack ran out of the restaurant and hailed a trike. Decker handed the driver a hundred pesos and told him to follow the jeepney carrying the big American.

“Don't get too close,” Decker advised. “We don't want him to see us.”

“I am very good at following people,” the driver said. “You stick with me. I am an expert driver.”

As they made their way back to base, the driver skillfully kept his trike a safe distance from the jeepney. Two blocks east of Magsaysay, Decker touched the driver's arm to stop. He eased the trike to the sidewalk. “There's your jeepney,” the drivers said, pointing with his lips.

“
Salamat
,” said Decker, closely watching the people emerging from the back end of the vehicle. Two old women. One old man. A mother with three young kids. Two high school kids. And finally Chief Fray.

“He's going back to base,” Decker said.

“Looks like he's headed in that direction,” Hack agreed. “Do you want to follow him?”

“I don't think we'll be able to. He'll probably have his car there or his wife will be waiting for him. He doesn't strike me as the type who likes to walk.”

They both laughed and watched Chief Fray cross the street between blocks making his way towards the Shit River Bridge. They didn't see, nor did Chief Fray notice, the jeepney barreling down the street. Decker and Hack saw it only after the vehicle zoomed by them. No passengers inside. Just a lone driver.

Chief Fray turned around, but had no time to react. The front end of the jeepney hit him with a force that sent him flying forward, his head bouncing on the pavement, his arms and limbs swinging wildly at his side as if he were a rag doll. The jeepney turned right down an alley and sped away.

Decker and Hack and the trike driver sat stunned. The driver started the engine, but Decker grabbed Hack and pulled him out of the motorcycle. He motioned to the driver to cut the engine.

“What are you doing?” Hack said. “We need to help him!”

“Look who's already there to help,” Decker said, pointing to a man kneeling beside Chief Fray's body.

“It's Ponytail,” Hack said. “How did he get here?”

“Don't you get it?”

“Get what?”

“This was a set up. That jeepney didn't have any passengers. They always have passengers.”

“You think it hit Chief on purpose?”

Decker nodded. “Absolutely. It was going way too fast. I've never seen a jeepney drive like that. They always go slow so they can pick up and drop off people. That's how they make a living. And then as soon as Chief is hit, it disappears and the first person on the scene is one of Agana's goons. A helpful bystander there to provide first aid.”