Red Tide, стр. 32
“Tell me how this is going to go down,” Greer said, as he examined the shirt.
“We will arrive at the front gate, identify ourselves, and present our IDs,” Mary answered. “Then we will be taken into the prison where we’ll be searched. According to our informant that could consist of a pat down, or if the guards are suspicious, a more intrusive search.
“Once that process is over, we will be escorted to the cell where the Americans are being held. You will have thirty minutes to interview them. Once the session is over, we will exit through the main gate. A private car will be waiting. Here’s a brand-new cell phone,” Mary added, as she tossed the device onto the bed. “You can use it to record the interviews, and take pictures, to the extent that the guards allow you to do so.”
Greer was looking in the mirror mounted over the dresser as he tied his tie. He could see Mary behind him. “Are you wanted by the police?”
She frowned. “No. That’s one of the reasons why I was chosen for this mission.”
“But what about later on?” Greer wanted to know, as he turned to look at her. “There will be cameras in the prison. Even if everything goes perfectly, and we leave without incident, the shit will hit the fan. Have you considered that?”
Something changed in her eyes. “Yes. Of course.”
“And?”
“And I will hide.”
“Maybe you should come with us. The flight will be risky. But, if the authorities connect the stolen plane with our visit to the prison, staying on Luzon will be even riskier.”
Mary’s eyes searched his face. “Why do you care?”
“I care because you’re risking your life for me,” Greer answered simply. “And for a common cause. So how ‘bout it? Will you come?”
“Maybe,” Mary said. “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that,” Greer said, as he pulled the pants on. “Is there any chance we can grab something to eat on the way?”
“Yes,” Mary answered. “We’ll stop at a McDo.”
“A McDo?”
“A McDonalds. That’s what we call them here.”
Once Greer was dressed, they left the hotel. Another one of the ubiquitous white taxies was waiting. Greer’s nine was tucked into his waistband and the briefcase was at his side. When they stopped at McDonalds it was Mary who went in to get the food.
Even though he was inside a car Greer felt very exposed as the minutes ticked by. The driver was surfing the internet as a police car pulled in next to them. Greer pulled the pistol and waited to see what the cops would do. The driver got out, paused to hitch his gun belt up, then made his way to the front door. Mary passed him going the other way.
Once Mary was in the taxi, she gave each man his food. “Let’s hit the road,” Greer said, as he accepted a bag. “Now.”
Mary passed the order to the driver, who was already eating his McRice burger, as he backed out. Greer’s bag contained a double cheeseburger and a large coke. The food was delicious after weeks on the fishing boat.
After passing through the outskirts of town the taxi followed a winding road through a succession of villages, between carefully tended fields of green, and over rushing rivers.
Greer saw very little of it however because he was watching their six, trying to anticipate what would go down at the prison, and wondering if he was batshit crazy. The obvious answer was, “Hell yes.”
The sun was beginning to sink in the west as the taxi turned off the highway and onto the road that led to the prison. What Greer saw surprised him. There were walls, yes. Plus, an inner fence topped with concertina wire and two guard towers.
But a building that sat perched on the rise beyond looked like a Hilton Hotel. The roof was red, the walls were white, and palm trees lined the drive. “Appearances can be deceiving,” Mary said. “What you see is what President Costas wants you to see. The truth is hidden within.
“About 20 percent of the prisoners in Filipino prisons die each year. Many of the deaths result from pulmonary tuberculosis. The others can be attributed to gang fights and summary executions.”
As Greer took the information in, he realized that his mission was even more urgent than he’d thought. Unless the Allies launched a rescue mission right away, the POWs might die before they could be sent to China.
The taxi came to a halt in front of a drop-down barrier which was sandwiched between two stone guard houses. Both structures had slit-style windows through which weapons could be fired.
Mary got out of the taxi with some paperwork clutched in her hand. A noncom spoke to her and consulted a clipboard. More words were exchanged. Mary came over to speak through the open window. “So far so good. Leave everything other than your passport, wallet and cellphone behind. The taxi will turn around and go back the way we came.”
With my weapons, Greer thought. That sucks.
But it was too late to back out. He slipped the nine into the briefcase which he placed on the floor. Then, with a big smile on his face, he got out of the car. The noncom looked him up and down. “Good afternoon. Your passport please.”
Greer gave it over, and the police officer made a show out of comparing the recently taken photo, to the American’s face. Then he gave the passport back. “Thank you. We are required to search you. I’m sure you understand.”
Greer stood with legs spread and arms extended as a second guard scanned him with a wand and a third administered a pat-down. Meanwhile, a female cop was running her hands up and down Mary’s slim frame.
Greer could imagine doing the same thing. And admonished himself for