SIXTEEN.
The plane touched
down at the old Clark Air Base at three in the morning. There was
no fanfare, no military band, no diplomatic reception. The old base
had been turned over to the Philippine government when they chose
not to renew the U.S. Air Force's lease. This was an unscheduled,
unannounced arrival. The Gulfstream was met by a tired-looking
ground crew that was more concerned with rubbing the sleep from
their eyes than who was on the plane. A fuel truck pulled up
alongside the jet almost immediately and two men went to work
filling the plane's tanks.
McMahon left the
plane first. He was met by the embassy's FBI man, who, according to
plan, should have been roused from a dead sleep just an hour ago
and told to get his ass to the base to pick up someone important.
McMahon was that man and once he was alone with the agent he would
put the fear of God into him. No one at the embassy was to know he
was in the country until he said so. McMahon was going to keep a
real close eye on Ambassador Cox, and when the word was given he
would slap the cuffs on him.
After McMahon was
gone, Rapp walked down the short stairs holding a file under his
arm. Despite the sticky humidity, he was wearing an olive-drab
vest, like the ones photographers wore. The lightweight vest was
designed with plenty of pockets inside and out and was great for
holding things like lenses and extra film. Or in Rapp's case, extra
clips of ammunition, a silencer for his 9mm Beretta and a secure
satellite phone.
A black Lincoln
Continental sat in the shadows next to one of the large gray
hangars. When Rapp reached the tarmac the sedan's lights flashed
three times. Rapp took a look around and then nodded to Coleman,
who was standing on the top step. The former SEAL ducked back
inside and hit a button. The stairs retracted into the closed
position and the sleek white jet began to move once again.
Rapp walked over to
the car. The back door swung open, and he stopped to take one last
look at the Gulfstream, which was taxiing for takeoff. He stepped
in, closed the door and turned to meet his contact.
Lieutenant General
Sergio Rizal looked back at Rapp with a pair of discerning dark
eyes. Rizal was the head of the Philippine army. He was a graduate
of West Point, and a staunch American ally. He and General Flood
had a good working relationship that went all the way back to
Vietnam. Pudgy-faced and short-limbed, the fifty-eight-year-old
hall a little pot belly that strained against the buttons of his
camouflage battle dress uniform.
Rizal was deeply
concerned about his country. He had been sickened when in the early
nineties the radicals in his government refused to renew the leases
for the American military bases. After twenty-one years of
dictatorial abuse by Ferdinand Marcos and his wife Imelda the
Filipino people rebelled against the military and its American
backers.
The radicals got
their way, the Americans left, the aid dried up, and an already
slumping economy worsened.
It wasn't long before
the Muslim and communist guerrilla groups who had been kept at bay
by the Marcos regime renewed their efforts to destroy the
democracy. They concentrated on the outer islands and began
wreaking havoc across the far-flung archipelago. Morale in the
Philippine army worsened with each year, and with each subsequent
decrease in funds. The communists were working their way into the
government through the socialist party and were doing everything
they could to frustrate the military in their campaign to keep the
country unified.
After a decade of
disastrous policy from the leadership in Manila, it had finally
been decided that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing having the
Americans around. The door was reopened a bit. Quietly, the United
States military began leasing portions of the bases and the vaunted
Green Berets began instructing the Philippine army on how to take
the battle to the rebels. Much needed economic and military aid was
increased, but in these tumultuous times, Rizal wondered if it was
enough to turn the tide. The enemy forces were already formidable,
and now this American was here to tell him he had a traitor in his
own inner circle. For the first time in his military career,
General Rizal felt that his country might be beyond saving.
Rapp made no effort
to introduce himself. He'd read Rizal's profile twice. In addition,
General Flood, who knew Rizal well, had told Rapp the man didn't
trust people who talked too much. Instead, Rapp casually extracted
a file from the flash bag on his lap and handed it over to him. He
watched the general don a pair of reading glasses and then watched
some more in silence as the man sitting next to him grew more and
more irritated with each passing page.
General Rizal closed
the file and removed his reading glasses. His expression was
unreadable. In a very precise manner, the older man placed his
reading glasses in a case and stowed them in his breast pocket. He
looked down at the file resting on his knee and sadly shook his
head.
"So General Moro is a
traitor."
"Unless you have
another explanation, that would appear to be the case."
The general
frowned.
"I have none." Rizal
still had yet to make eye contact with Rapp.
"In fact, when I look
back on certain events, this makes sense." Rizal's stubby fingers
tapped the file.
"Abu Sayyaf, moving
so freely, twice being cornered, but miraculously escaping both
times. We were all convinced that if Moro and his vaunted commandos
couldn't hunt down the rebels then no one could." The general shook
his head.
"How could I have
been so blind?"
"Were you friends?"
asked Rapp.
"No," said Rizal
without emotion.
"I never liked the
man, but he has his supporters. He is very smooth politically, and
his men love him.
He has created his
own cult of personality, something that has concerned me and a few
others for some time."
Rapp liked the sound
of that. Through the profiles that the CIA and Defense Intelligence
Agency had provided, Rapp already knew Moro's commandos were
fiercely loyal to him. This, combined with the new information that
Moro had enemies within the general staff, made Rapp confident that
he could sell his plan without having to twist any arms.
"What would his men
do if he was relieved of his command?"
"I'm not sure." The
American's implication was obvious.
"I can recall him to
Manila on any one of a dozen pretenses, all of them seemingly
legitimate, but going public with arresting him, that will be the
tricky part. He has many allies, some of them wildly popular and
very anti-American. They will say that you framed him." Rizal sadly
shook his head and added, "And there are many people in my country
who will want to believe that." Looking out the window he added in
a defeated voice, "Our military is very weak right now. I don't
know how we will survive a scandal of this magnitude."
Rapp saw his
chance.
"There's another way
out of this, sir."
For the first time
Rizal made eye contact.
"Moro has broken his
oath as an officer," Rapp started.
"He's a traitor plain
and simple." Rapp pointed to the file.
"This is just the tip
of the iceberg, by the way. If you brought him up on a
court-martial he'd be buried under the evidence and ultimately
sentenced to death. You can choose to go that route or we can try
something else."
"I'm
listening."
Rapp hesitated only
briefly.
"I want his head."
His dark eyes never left the general's.
"Two U.S. Navy SEALs
are dead because of him, and a family of innocent noncombatants are
still being held hostage because Moro has aided and abetted the
enemy. If we arrest him he will be court-martialed, and despite the
politics of the situation, he will be convicted and more than
likely sentenced to death. But as you've pointed out, such a trial
will severely damage our two countries' relationship and the image
of the Philippine army." Easing back, Rapp added, "I think both of
us would prefer to see this problem dealt within a more subtle
way."
Rizal thought about
this for a minute. He knew exactly what the American was getting
at.
"What would you need
from me?"
Rapp carefully
examined the general and then began to lay out his plan. By
midmorning the problem would be neutralized and the Philippine
people would have a martyr to rally behind in their battle against
the Muslim rebels.