Gold Buddha Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

LOS ANGELES, U.S.A.

DOUG ARRIVED AT THE LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT at 7:30 a.m. Bill and Lazer, traveling together from Vegas, had not yet arrived. The foggy weather had caused a slight delay in travel, but Doug was, as usual, still ahead of schedule.

Hundreds of people, rushing in every direction, filled the bustling air terminal—some alone and many with small children. Conversations in many different dialects created a cacophony of voices that combined to form a unique rhythm of sound. Family groups from exotic countries huddled close together guarding their luggage. Children ran and played among the luggage; while parents looked resigned to the problem.

People are able to communicate though they speak different languages Doug was amused as he watched a man talking to a police officer using hand motions and sketches on a pad in an effort to communicate without having a common language. Eventually, the officer understood and pointed directions.

Making his way to a waiting area near the Philippine air terminal, Doug selected a vacant chair. Observing the scene surrounding him and listening to the sounds of people passing, he thought: “This airport is a world in itself. Those who never travel by air have no idea what goes on in this world. It’s hard to understand how so many people can afford to travel by air—somehow, they get the money.”

The scene surrounding Doug included lovers who were separating and families saying good-bye to loved ones. A mother tried to kiss her daughter good-bye, but it was extremely awkward as they made a poor effort to embrace. Obviously, they were not in the habit of showing affection toward one another.

Finally, Bill and Lazer arrived and quickly located Doug. With a handshake to show unity, the trio headed toward the check-in counter.

The seating arrangements surprised Lazer. “Business class? I can’t believe it,” he said: “The last time he sent me on an assignment, I was so far back in the plane I had to sit on the toilet.”

Doug and Bill laughed, and Lazer added, “To top it off, I found out the ticket was only a one way. It took me nine months to get home.”

“You stick with us,” Bill commented, “we’ll show you how to travel.”

Before long, they boarded the plane; and with a roar of the huge engines, the 747 lifted off the runway. The flight was routine until landing in Hawaii for a forty-five minute layover. An announcement came over the speaker that startled all three men: “Doug Goodwin, Bill Goodwin and Lazer Tremor please report at the ticket counter in the restricted emigration waiting room.”

“Oh boy! What have we done now?” Lazer moaned.

“Don’t ask me,” Doug replied. “Maybe our mission has been scrubbed before it began.”

Hurriedly, they gathered their personal items and disembarked the plane. Standing nervously at the counter, the three men awaited the unknown.

An airline employee smiled and spoke to Bill “You Mr. Goodwin?”.

“Yes, I’m Bill Goodwin,” Bill replied, stepping forward and waiting as the man shuffled papers.

Looking up, the airline employee said, “We’d like to upgrade your seat to first-class.”

Relief and smiles came to all three simultaneously. “All of us?” Bill questioned.

“Let’s see, Bill Goodwin, Doug Goodwin and Mr. Tremor—Yes, I’ll upgrade all three.”

Bill turned with a grin, acting responsible, “Stick with me, I’ll show you how to live.” It was Bill’s nature to joke, and he took advantage of this situation.

After boarding the plane, they enjoyed the spacious first-class seats and ate meals on trays covered with tablecloths. Bill reclined his seat and said with a smile, “Ah, the little things of life are so nice!” He sat alone in a two-seat area until a beautiful; off-duty stewardess sat in the seat next to him.

Doug seeing the stewardess sit, commented to Lazer, “He might not have the charming personality he thinks he has, but he seems to have a charmed life. It’s been said that he could fall in a bucket of it and come out smelling like a rose.”

Lazer glanced over his shoulder toward Bill and saw him smiling like the ‘cock-of-the-walk’. “That’s sickening,” Lazer remarked.

Bill spoke loudly; hoping Doug and Lazer could hear every word. The talking and laughing between Bill and the stewardess irritated his envious partners, especially the sweet sound of a woman’s voice. Bill leaned forward and said to Lazer, “My companion said we should stay at the Hilton while we’re in the Philippines.”

Doug and Lazer looked at each other with raised eyebrows. “I’d better go back there and find out a few things,” Lazer said.

“I think so too,” Doug said, wanting to put a crimp in Bill’s style.

As Lazer stepped back and knelt beside the stewardess, Doug relaxed and leaned back in his seat to rest. Being fatigued from lack of sleep, he fell asleep while listening to Lazer and awoke a few hours later. He saw Lazer sound asleep in the seat next to him. Looking back, he saw that Bill and the stewardess were also asleep and leaning slightly toward each other. Quietly, Doug reached for his camera and took a flash picture of them. Jokingly thinking, “Maybe I can blackmail him someday.”

MANILA, PHILIPPINES

Seventeen hours passed quickly, as they traveled through two time zones. Crossing time zones from east to west, however, were always less fatiguing than traveling the opposite direction for some reason.

Upon arriving in the Philippines, the three men shifted into a predetermined plan of action. Lazer left the plane first, moving through customs by himself. He waited outside the terminal.

The hot and muggy, rainy weather was a tangible sign of the Monsoon season. A typhoon moving off the northern coast of Luzon added to the unstable weather conditions. The sticky humidity felt extremely uncomfortable to the American travelers.

Doug, being from Newport Beach, California, commented, “At least I’m accustomed to more humidity than you desert rats from Vegas.”

“I won’t complain,” Bill said, while continuing his sentence under his breath with the words, “too much.”

Lazer and the Goodwin brothers traveled from the airport in separate taxis. Doug told the driver, “Take us to the Sheraton Hotel,” intentionally avoiding the Hilton and Bill’s airline stewardess.

As authorized representatives of the Goodwin Tours and Travel Agency, Doug arranged a 25% discount at the hotel. Nobody questioned the validity of the agency after seeing Doug’s business card. The travel agency was a good cover and always provided a substantial savings.

Lazer arranged a separate room, avoiding a link with the Goodwins. After securing his room, he sent a fax to the Center for World Action headquarters announcing their safe arrival.

Doug immediately telephoned Pedro Lim.

Pedro was overjoyed to hear Doug’s voice. “Hello friend,” he said.

Doug responded, “I’ll catch a taxi and meet you after we relax a minute.”

“No, I have a car. I’ll come to you,” Pedro replied, “When should I come?”

“Anytime, this evening or tomorrow.”

“I’ll come now!” Pedro responded emphatically. He had waited patiently, but with the arrival of the Goodwin brothers, he was ready for reparation.

“That’s good. I’m at the Sheraton. I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour, okay?”

“That’s fine.”

“Good-bye,” Doug replied and returned to his hotel room.

All three were excited about the rapid contact with Pedro. His immediate response showed that he felt a real urgency—it was unusual for a Filipino to react that rapidly. The laid-back attitude of the Filipinos usually irritates hard-pressing Americans. To accomplish a simple task in the Philippines involves countless time delays, and any attempt to buck the system meant trying to change generations of customs. It always led to total frustration for Americans.

A refreshing shower revitalized Doug, and he left his sleeping partner to await Pedro’s arrival. After sitting in the lobby for nearly two hours, Doug became concerned that Pedro had not yet arrived. He decided to telephone Pedro’s residence again.

Pedro’s niece, Lesli, answered and assured Doug that Pedro was on his way; so Doug returned to the lobby.

Sitting alone in an easy chair, watching the people, he realized that now he was the foreigner—he was one of the minorities. None of the people in the lobby were white; all had brown skin and black hair. That observation surprised him; for, in his haste, he had rushed from the airport to the hotel without fully realizing how he would stand out in his new environment.

Lost in his thoughts, he turned toward the revolving doors as Pedro walked in. The sight of Pedro startled him at first, although in a joyous way.

Backlight from the late afternoon sun glistened through Pedro’s thinning, silver hair, giving him a refreshed healthy appearance. Dressed in a flowered short sleeved sport shirt, he looked like a tourist from Hawaii.

Doug rose from his seat to greet Pedro, “It’s good to see you again.”

Smiling in his conservative way, Pedro responded, “Thanks for coming.”

“Think nothing of it. We want to help.”

“Where’s Bill?”

“He’s recuperating from the flight; we won’t see him until tomorrow,” Doug joked, directing Pedro down the hallway. “I found a quiet sitting area around the corner where we won’t be disturbed,” The selected area was away from the crowd of people. Sitting at a small cocktail table, Doug asked about Pedro’s family, and Pedro gave a brief response and turned the conversation toward the gold Buddha.

“It’s the Japanese Mafia, Yakuza, I really fear,” Pedro began. “They are angry that I have helped others recover gold.”

“We’ll have to be very cautious. Was there a problem with you coming here today?”

“No, I’m used to being followed; so I traveled a devious route. That’s why it took so long.”

Doug listened as Pedro described the actions of Charlie Mac, Ernie Whittle and Dr. Sori and watched as Pedro removed three photographs from his shirt pocket. “These are their pictures,” Pedro said. Pedro had led them to the gold Buddha site inside the dungeon area of Fort Santiago. The gold Buddha had been buried for forty-five years.

Charlie Mac and his partners in crime had used Pedro’s knowledge of buried Japanese gold sites to recover the unique statue of Buddha. It was thought to be 22 kt. gold and filled with a fortune in diamonds. It was one of seven Buddha statues hidden in various locations in the Philippines. This statue weighed nearly a ton and a half. The casting was artistic and cleverly designed so that its head could be unscrewed to reveal a hollow chamber filled with diamonds and other precious stones.

“Imelda Marcos already has one of the seven statues,” Pedro continued explaining. “ A Filipino farmer discovered it in a cave, and President Marcos took it from him by force.”

“I’ve read about that,” Doug said. “Didn’t Imelda have it in her palace?”

“Yes, she proudly displayed it, like it was hers.”

“Are there many more gold sites in the Philippines?”

“Yes, many!”

“Maybe, we should recover an easy site to finance this venture while we’re here,” Doug said after Pedro’s explanation.

“There aren’t any easy sites left. The Japanese have recovered most of them. For many years after the war they came back to the Philippines claiming to collect bones of their dead—They believe that the spirit is not released until they cremate the bones. Many caskets were taken from the country, but most of them were carried off with quite a bit of gold mixed with a few bones. Custom inspectors never opened the caskets to examine them. I think most of them are quite superstitious.”

“That could work to our advantage later on. Do you know people who have some of that gold who will sell it to us, at a discount?”

“Yes, many people, but they are afraid to sell because the government made it illegal to buy or sell gold. One man brought me a bar about two months ago, but I didn’t have anyone to buy.”

“Can we reach him again?”

“Oh-oh ( Filipino expression for yes ), but when the monsoons quit. The roads up North are bad now, he lives 440 kilometers away—He has maybe five tons.”

“Would he sell it for, say, 10% of the market value?”

“He doesn’t know about market value, just offer some money.”

Then Doug directed the conversation back to the recovery of the gold Buddha. “Did Charley get it for sure?”

“Ya, Ernie said he’d see I got my percentage.”

“So Ernie was definitely in on it too.”

“Ya, they were in it with Dr. Sori.”

“Where are they now?”

“Don’t know, I heard Charley might be here, but Ernie and Dr. Sori are still here for sure—probably guarding the Buddha.”

“Have you tried to find them?”

“No, I guess I’m getting used to being cheated.”

“Not this time. Where was Ernie the last time you heard?”

“In a house at Supi Village, maybe with Charley. I think he works on a drilling rig”

“Is he still there?”

“Don’t know.”

“I need to locate him and the others in the next couple days to be sure the Buddha is still on island.”

“If Ernie is still here, the Buddha is still here,” Pedro replied.

“Let me tell you what we’re planning.” Doug continued: “On this trip we’ll locate Ernie and his cronies and trail ‘em until we find Orphan Annie. Did I tell you that’s the code name for the Buddha?”

Pedro nodded that he understood and continued listening intently to Doug’s comments. “You haven’t met Lazer yet, but he’s with us for protection. He’ll be working with a local detective agency in case we need help in locating Charley; also setting up a cover to use when we relocate Orphan Annie.”

“I need to tell you about a family problem,” Pedro interrupted: “My brother died the other day, and I have to go South to his province for the funeral and mourning.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Doug responded. “Can I help in any way?”

“No thanks, but the family will be coming together; I have to be there.”

“I fully understand. We have plenty to do,” Doug said thinking that it was unfortunate this might delay their search for the Buddha. “When do you leave?”

“Soon as I can, I’ll help you first.”

“Well, give our best to the family.” Doug said noticing a packet of papers in the chair near Pedro. “Is that material about Orphan Annie?”

“Ya, it is drawings and descriptions with maps and original inventory sheets of other gold burial sites. I want you to keep them.” Opening the weathered brown envelope, Pedro removed a sheet of paper. “ See here’s a sheet dated 20 September ‘44. This is the other site Charley and Ernie stole.”

“You didn’t tell me about that one,” Doug said with surprise in his voice.

“I waited for you to come.”

Looking at a stained, yellowed inventory paper, he saw the following items listed as buried at the location called “the Bridge Site”:

(15) Steel Vaults:

Measurements 5’0" HIGH 5’0" WIDE 4’0" LONG

    A) Contains 450 Gold Bars per Vault 50 Kilograms per Bar
     B) (3) 4’0" HIGH GOLD BUDDHAS
          Inside (3) of the 15 Vaults
     C) (5) One Cubic Foot Steel Boxes of Gems

Note: (7) 45 Gallons Barrels of assorted coins were
transferred to officer’s Quarters of this Fort.

Turning the paper over with curious interest Doug read the notes on the other side of the paper and said, “Hey, this has the dungeon inventory too.”

“That’s what I showed Charley,” Pedro said with a sullen voice.

“Well, he’s got it for sure,” Doug said in a half spoken voice, “but I have the team to recapture it.”

Leaning back in his chair, Doug studied the aged sheet of paper. He always enjoyed antiquity and objects of history; by the look on his face, he enjoyed that moment thoroughly. “This is your signature isn’t it?”

Pointing to the opposite side of the page, Pedro said, “Yes, and this is the Japanese officer. We both signed the paper after taking inventory. Later, General Yamashita detonated explosives in the tunnels, burying the gold, workers and often the Japanese officers. Having been promised a place in Paradise, the officers willingly sacrificed their lives for the Emperor.”

“Too bad,” Doug said through his concentration. “Do you know where Ernie or Charley live now?”

“Not now, Ernie is working on a drilling rig somewhere pretending he is poor. Of course he’s wanted by the drug enforcement in the U.S..”

Doug looked up in surprise. “The Drug Enforcement?”

“Yes, he’s been under investigation for sometime, and I think he’s afraid to return to U.S.—flew drugs in his private plane.”

“I wasn’t aware he had that problem.”

“Maybe you have him extradited.”

“That would help take him out of the picture,” Doug declared with a smile. “I’ll pass the information to “Big O”. He’s a key man working with us on your project.

After covering details of the Buddha recovery and later circumstances, Doug stood to stretch his tired body. “I need a few hours sleep,” he said. “Let’s meet again tomorrow when I’m over my jet lag. Bill and I will check Supi Village in the morning. If Charley and Ernie are in the Philippines, we’ll find them.”

Pedro stood and clasped Doug’s hand and said, “Thanks for coming.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Doug replied.

The two friends parted, and Doug returned to his hotel room finding Bill still asleep. Doug slid quietly into bed and instantly fell asleep too.

After sleeping three hours, Doug awoke and took a hot shower, and Bill awoke to the sound of water striking the walls of the shower. He lay in the darkened room contemplating their mission and visualizing the financial freedom his share of this adventure would bring. He had always wanted to own a home in the high mountain pines of Utah, and this would make that dream possible. He enjoyed the mental images he had conjured up in his mind until Doug stepped from the bathroom.

Doug smiled, as steam filled the main room, “Hey Bro., let’s go down to the lounge to eat and watch a live show. They usually have good performers.”

Bill leaped to his feet and charged toward the bathroom. Doug knew how to get his attention. They dressed and left for the lounge, deciding to let Lazer sleep.

Approaching the lounge, Bill walked toward a poster displaying glossies of two girls and a boy. The performers called themselves the “Algorythms”. The Algorythms were performing as the Goodwin Brothers entered the lounge. Selecting a small round table toward the center of the room, Doug and Bill prepared to be entertained. The loud and raucous sounds of the music instantly relieved their tension.

Filipino entertainers have a talent for imitating American performers. Even the musical arrangements sound similar to the original recordings. On that small island, seven thousand miles from home, the music touched a familiar chord in the hearts of the Goodwin Brothers, and their smiling faces caught the performer’s attention.

During one of their dialogue periods, the performers asked people in the audience to shout the name of their hometowns.

“And these two happy gentlemen,” a short, beautiful girl singer said, pointing toward the Goodwin Brothers. “Where are you from?”

Bill started to say, Las Vegas, but Doug interrupted him and shouted, “Iloilo!”

Iloilo (Elo-elo) is a town on a southern Philippine Island, a most unlikely residence for two white guys. The audience laughed, the performers quickly picked up on the joke. They used it often that evening to get a laugh from the audience.

“What’s your names?” Roxanne, a girl singer, asked.

“The Goodwin brothers!” Bill responded: “Bill and Doug!”

Cheers and laughter came from the performers and the audience, and “The Goodwin brothers from Iloilo” became the focal point of humor all evening.

Doug and Bill stayed through the third set and dragged themselves back to the room after midnight collapsing into bed.

The following morning, sunlight worked through a separation in the heavy drapes forming a ray of light that rested across Doug’s sleeping eyes, causing him to awake.

Arising with a start, Doug slid to the edge of the bed holding his head in his hands and stared at the floor trying to regain his presence of mind. He made his way to the parted drapes and peered through the opening. Surveying the scene below, he looked down from the fourteenth story of the luxurious Sheraton hotel at a contrasting scene. He saw shabby lean-to shacks for the homeless and abandoned buildings occupied by masses of people.

Speaking to himself, Doug said in a whisper, “It’s shocking.” He realized that seventy-five percent of the people in this country were homeless. He wondered why he was so fortunate, being born in America in a solid family, with all the advantages one needs to enjoy life in a comfortable way. His fortunate circumstances were in his mind as he looked at the squalor below.

As Doug was having these thoughts, Bill rolled over with a groan and half opened one eye to look toward Doug. “Daylight is burning, Pilgrim!” He exclaimed as he noticed Bill’s movement.

Stretching his arms above his head and taking a long breath, Bill asked, “What’s on for today?”

“Let’ go to Supi Village to see if Charley still lives there—Pedro said he was there last year.”

“Are we still planning to look for them this evening?”

“Yeah, like we discussed last night. They usually go to the Tarlac Bar to pickup some girls. It’s a major part of their corrupt life style.”

“You mean those moral guys would go out with “Hos”,” Bill said sarcastically.

“Yes “Hos”,” Doug repeated, laughing as he headed for the shower. The Goodwin brothers had many inside phrases they used in daily conversations, but the word “Ho” was a new one, created last night in the lounge.

As they had observed the people in the lounge, they realized every man had a young lady with him. Usually the young lady looked bored; so they began calling the prostitutes “Bowed Hos”, meaning bored whores.

It appeared that morality of most traveling men remained at home. It appeared that whoring was a primary part of a Japanese business trip. The first activity of Japanese businessmen upon arrival, was to select a girl, or several girls, to accompany them for a week or two. A pimp, a man who provides gratification for others’ lusts, would bring a group of girls to the lobby of the hotel. A pompous businessman would walk along selecting whomever appealed to him. It was commonplace and an accepted practice.

“Everyone’s gotta “Ho” but us,” Bill stated in a poetic tone of voice causing Doug to break out in song:

“Oh, the badgers and the bears,
And the beavers and the hares,
And the birds in the cottonwood trees,
Oh, the pretty little rabbits,
Are engaging in their habits,
And they all have a “Ho” but me.”

Doug laughed as he dodged a pillow thrown by Bill, and continued toward the bathroom. He still had a smile on his face as he remembered his grandfather entertaining with music as he played his accordion and sang the song. Doug had just changed the ending from, “They all have a mate but me”. The Goodwin brothers had vowed many years ago to maintain good moral principles; so they only joked about having “hos”.

Fifteen minutes later, as Doug completed his shower, Bill was still laying in bed. Doug peered around the corner and shouted, “Hit the ceiling, brother. Let’s get on with it!”

“If you’re waiting for me, you’re backing up,” Bill shouted as he leaped and started dressing.

“No shower?” Doug asked.

“No time for the frills of life, we’d better hurry,” Bill replied. “Shall we call Lazer?”

“No, he has appointments today with the defense minister,” Doug answered.

Lazer was developing an alternate plan of action that might be used. Before leaving the States, he had applied for and received permits necessary to purchase ammunition and guns for international resale. The Philippine military had vast storage depots filled with millions of rounds of ammunition—including desirable 50mm shells, most of it left from World War II. The plan was to purchase several sea/land containers of ammunition and have it shipped to Saipan for storage. Unknown to customs, Orphan Annie would be hidden in the lower front of one container with tons of ammunition protecting her. Custom officials would never check a full container ostensibly filled with “cleared” ammunition.

The Goodwin brothers hurriedly dressed and prepared to leave. They ate sweet rolls from a small refrigerator in their room and rushed toward the taxi area. They accepted the first taxi available and headed for Supi Village. The driver was friendly and aggressive in his driving—the type of man the Goodwin brothers needed.

“What’s your name?” Bill asked the driver.

“Leo,” came the reply.

“You work early every morning, Leo?” Bill asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Maybe you’d be our driver every day this week?”

“Yes sir.”

“How much for one day?

“Maybe three hundred pesos.”

“Okay, three hundred today, and we’ll tell you each night about the next day.”

“Yes sir,” Leo said with joy—that would be about $15US, and he usually earned a maximum of $10US.

Traveling through a maze of traffic, they passed the Makati Center and drove to the guard gate at Supi Village.

A guard stepped forward and took Leo’s divers license before allowing them to enter. The license would be returned when they left.

Before leaving the gate, Bill asked the guard, “Can you tell us where the office building is?”

The guard pointed straight ahead and said, “Turn left for two blocks.”

Leo drove them directly to the office, and the Goodwin brothers entered the front door. A secretary greeted them.

“We need to get the address of a friend,” Doug stated.

“Your friend in Supi Village?” she asked.

“Yes,” Doug replied.

The secretary directed them to step into the next room. There they saw a man sitting behind a small cluttered desk. “Good mornin’,” Doug said. “We are looking for our friend who lives in Supi Village.”

“What’s his name?” the man asked.

“Charley Mac.”

Looking through a loose-leaf notebook, the man raised his head and said, “No one by that name here.”

Both Bill and Doug showed disappointment as they turned toward each other. Suddenly an unlikely event occurred—another man, who had been listening from across the room, stood and said, “Mr. Ernie lives with Charley Mac.”

With delight, Doug said, “That’s him. What’s his address?”

The second man walked to a map and pointed out the house and wrote the number on a piece of paper.

Happily, the Goodwin brothers returned to the taxi and directed Leo to Charlie’s house.

As they approached his house, the front gate opened and a Filipina maid stepped out with a broom in her hand. She began sweeping the leaves from the sidewalk, an early morning custom in the Philippines. Maids usually sweep the lawns, sidewalk and gutter each morning.

Now they knew someone was home; and possibly, the maid was trying to impress her employer. There was a good chance Charlie was home.

Bill told the driver to go to the end of the block and park on the opposite side of the street.

Sitting in the hot humid atmosphere was not comfortable, but the waiting eventually paid off. After nearly an hour, Charlie’s maid opened the large metal gates of the driveway and a car drove out. Charley was sitting in the back seat.

“There he is, that son-of-a-gun lives in style.” Doug said. “He has a driver, maid and heaven only knows who else.”

Charlie was easily recognizable because he dressed and acted like Indiana Jones of the movies. His hat and khaki clothes created an image he enjoyed.

“Follow that car!” Doug instructed Leo, who responded by driving quickly toward Charlie’s gray sedan.

Manila traffic was bumper to bumper as usual, with cars squeezing between cars; so trailing a car in Manila is always a difficult task.

“Stay with them,” Bill emphasized to the driver. “It’s worth fifty pesos extra if you don’t lose them.”

The small brow skinned driver wiped his forehead with a quilted cloth he carried in his hand and suddenly became alert. He did anything that was necessary to maintain close contact with Charlie’s car. He actually moved into the oncoming lane of traffic, drove three hundred feet and darted back into the right lane of traffic, nearly touching Charlie’s car. The traffic was routine for Leo, but horrendous for the Goodwin brothers.

Miraculously the taxi driver maintained the tail on Charley all the way to Roxas Boulevard.

“He might be headed toward Fort Santiago,” Doug commented with surprise.

“Stick with him,” Bill instructed the driver.

“He can’t be going there,” Doug said. “He hasn’t been working at the fort for a year.”

“Maybe we’re lucky,” Bill said. “Is there a chance the Gold Buddha didn’t leave the Fort?”

“No, that would be too risky, but there is a chance it didn’t go far and Charley might lead us to it.”

“Wouldn’t that be something? Wait, he’s turning…be careful…don’t blow it now…stay back a ways,” Bill instructed.

Leo responded immediately and became more aware of the need for concentration. Hearing talk about Fort Santiago, he realized the clandestine nature of the event and cautiously followed farther behind the gray car. He watched it make a right turn and looked behind for instructions.

“Wait here,” Doug said, barely waiting for the taxi to stop before he jumped out the door. He rushed to the corner to check the movement of Charlie’s car.

Carefully peering around the edge of the corner building, the gray car was still in view but came to a stop within a few seconds. Doug watched Charley as he stepped from the vehicle and walked toward a warehouse. Charlie’s driver waited in the car; so it appeared that Charley would not be long.

Doug crossed the street for a better view of the warehouse and stood watching for nearly thirty minutes.

As Doug concentrated on the warehouse, a group of teenage Filipinos strolled past him. He knew he might have trouble as soon as he looked into their eyes. They stared back, directly into Doug’s eyes. Ordinarily a Filipino will look away immediately if an American makes eye contact. These guys could be dangerous; they maintained eye contact. Doug knew he could “clean house” with these guys but it would create a scene and bring unwanted attention.

The gang walked by Doug in a harassing way. Doug’s left hand slid to his side and gripped a mace unit attached to his belt, and his right hand curled into a solid fist. His goal would be to escape without confrontation; but if he were pressured, he was ready to escape leaving behind a ton of confusion.

No words were spoken nor sounds made as the gang ambled by. Ten pairs of eyes stared directly at Doug without a hint of fear. The stakeout of Charley was in jeopardy if they decided to hassle.

The last two boys of the gang were walking close to Doug, as if planning to make physical contact, when the jovial voice of Bill rang through the air like a breath of fresh air.

“Hey brother Doug, you need some help?” Bill shouted.

The unexpected voice and the sight of a tall man startled the young boys, and their cadence immediately increased.

Bill walked directly to join Doug whispering under his breath, “What you planning to do, try out that Tai-Chi-Whatever on those little boys?”

“I’m glad you came along. The peace and tranquility of this rough neighborhood would have been disturbed in about three minutes.” Doug responded. Turning his back on the Filipino gang, he said, “Watch them for me.”

Bill covered Doug’s backside as Doug looked toward Charlie’s car.

The gang kept strolling in the opposite direction; so the crisis passed without incident. The Goodwin brothers watched for a few minutes then returned to the taxi.

Relieved, they relaxed without saying a word; then Doug spoke in their private language. “Thilifis milafite belafee the plaliface they hilafid the Bulafudallafa.” (This might be the place they hid the Buddha.)

“Could be,” Bill responded. “Let’s wait here ‘til Charley leaves. I’ll watch for a while.” Bill left the taxi and walked across the street and positioned himself so that he could see Charlie’s car.

Bill’s mind occupied thoughts of how useful their private language was, as he walked up and down the street glancing in the shop windows. “It’s extremely useful in these third world countries when you don’t want others to know your conversation, he thought.”

He smiled as he remembered when he and Doug were standing in a bank line in Thailand, and he realized there were many different languages being spoken in the room. Bill started speaking to Doug in their private language, which sounds like a jumbled mess to an untrained ear, but nobody showed signs that anything was unusual. The people, accustomed to living in mixed cultures, tuned out the sounds they didn’t recognize, assuming it was a foreign language. After all, multiple languages surrounded them.

An hour passed, and the morning sun was beginning to bear down. Suddenly, Bill saw Charley rushing from the warehouse. He suspiciously looked over his shoulder and got into his car.

Running to the taxi, Bill leaped into the vehicle, and Leo came alive with a startled look. He knew he was on duty again.

“Hurry around the corner,” Bill shouted before he was completely inside the taxi.

With a quick jerk, that threw Bill into the seat, the taxi lunged forward. Adrenaline was pumping so rapidly that the rough action was barely noticed.

“Don’t lose him,” Doug added to Bill’s instructions.

Again they were in pursuit. Sweat ran down the backs of both men, because of the muggy humidity. As the taxi rushed past the warehouse, Doug quickly recorded the address. They would have to plan a night reconnaissance. Charlie’s car made two quick right turns and fused into the traffic again. Doug and Bill’s taxi remained close behind, winding its way through the congestion. Charlie’s car turned right, over a bridge and headed toward Chinatown.

“Isn’t this Chinatown where those bombings were last month?” Bill asked the driver.

Leo wasn’t listening and didn’t answer; so Doug responded, “I believe it was. Nobody was injured, but they connected it to a group protesting U.S. Army Bases. Many don’t like Americans right now.”

“Great, that’s all we need,” Bill murmured under his breath, “more things to be careful of.”

Chinatown was as filthy as the rest of Manila. Garbage stacked on the corners of the street had been there for many weeks. Debris from torn plastic bags lay scattered across the streets.

Several poor horses pulling rundown, wooden wagons, looked down at the street as if they were close to death. Their heads hung lower than their bony rib cages. It was as if they were walking dead animals. The scene was pathetic to the Goodwin brothers. A man pulling a fully loaded wooden cart came directly toward the taxi as they passed over the bridge, and the taxi had to swerve to avoid hitting him. The poor fellow was straining with every ounce of strength he had, and the cart was barely moving—he was unaware of the near miss.

Both brothers watched with silent respect as their taxi passed the man doing a horse’s job. Doug broke the silence when he quietly said: “You have to respect a guy like that.”

“Sure do,” Bill agreed as he glanced back at the man.

A recurring theme passed through Doug’s mind, “Why was I so lucky to be born in America?”

Charlie’s next move was unexplainable at the time. He stopped in front of a jewelry shop, walked in, stayed a few minutes and left.

“What’s that all about?” Doug asked.

“I’m sure I don’t know; all we can do is clock it for future reference,” Bill commented. “Maybe something to do with the “dilafimallafonds” (diamonds).

“Probably so.”

They then followed Charley who drove directly to his house. They had completed a circle.

The Goodwin Brothers’ taxi parked down the street for twenty minutes; but seeing no further activity outside Charlie’s house, they decided to quit for the day and returned to the Sheraton Hotel.

Lazer had been waiting for several hours when they arrived. His report was favorable but inconclusive. The Defense Minister had accepted him readily, and was eager to do business, but was involved with a lengthy process of taking inventory of armament—it would take several weeks. Knowing the efficiency of the Filipinos, it would most likely take several months; so that plan was on the shelf. However, the fact that he had made contact with the Defense Minister may prove to help them establish a “cover,” at a later date.

Doug and Bill rested in their hotel room until 8:30 that evening; then, with Lazer, had Leo drive them to Tarlac Bar.

The Tarlac Bar, in a rundown building, looked as if it had been there since World War II. It was still the busiest business in town every night. Before they stepped from the taxi, a hustler approached them to sell Cartier watches. Bill enjoyed playing mental games with con men; so he stepped aside and inspected the watches.

“Genuine!” the man insisted.

“I know watches, and these are fake,” Bill replied.

“No, very real.”

“How much for these genuine Cartier watches?”

“Only one thousand pesos for two.”

“One thousand pesos for two genuine Cartiers? That’s too much. Maybe three hundred for two.”

“Three hundred for one,” the man bartered.

“No, not today,” Bill said and turned to walk away.

“Okay, two for three hundred, just for you,” the man quickly said.

“Let’s see one.”

The man raised his shirt and took two watches from a small zippered waist pouch. “A man’s and a woman’s,” he said with a grin.

Bill took them from their plastic covering and was surprised they were running. Thinking, “For $15US, I can’t go wrong,” he handed the hustler three hundred pesos and walked away.

Lazer had gone inside, but Doug waited near the doorway having a separate experience. An attractive young girl walked to him and asked, “You want some company tonight?”

“I’m not sure…what do you have in mind?”

“I could show you a good time, are you lonely?”

“I think I’ll look inside before I decide,” Doug said with a teasing sound.

“I’m the best.”

“I’ll bet you are, but I have to shop around on a major decision like this.”

The girl stepped closer and looked into Doug’s eyes. This act was unlike most Filipinas. He felt, for an instant, a feeling of excitement.

Just as Doug was enjoying the moment, Bill walked up, breaking the mood by saying, “Well, well, what do we have here?”

Right away, the Filipina changed her attention to Bill. He seemed more like a potential customer.

Having fun with the situation, Doug took Bill’s arm and pulled him toward the doorway.

“She was nice,” Bill said. “Notice how she left you and jumped to me?”

“I didn’t see her jump, more like glance.”

“That always happens. They know a lover when they see one.”

With that statement, they pushed one another in a friendly way and entered the bar. American service men, men of diverse nationalities and prostitutes seeking business, were laughing and speaking with loud reverberating voices. Girls rushed to them for attention as they entered, but were ignored. They looked for Lazer and saw him sitting at a table next to the wall in a corner of the room.

They worked their way to the corner table and looked around the smoke filled room hoping to see Charley.

“We’ll have to walk around once in a while to check this out,” Bill commented.

“I think I’ll walk by the bar. Don’t wander off, stay here and I’ll be back in a minute,” Doug said and walked toward an old western saloon type bar. As he approached the bar, he spotted a thin, lanky man dressed in cowboy boots and jeans and recognized his as Ernie. Ernie leaned with one elbow on the bar and a drink in his hand talking to a prostitute.

Doug looked the other way and returned to his table. “That’s Ernie over there,” Doug reported, with excitement in his voice.

Bill and Lazer stared through the smoke and spotted the hazy image of Ernie. “What should we do now?”

“We’ll have to wait for him to leave and follow him. We need to know where he lives.”

It was a long evening, especially for the Goodwin brothers. They were still fatigued from the trip to the Philippines and never enjoyed the noisy environment of a bar.

Finally, it appeared that Ernie settled on the prostitute and would be leaving soon.

“Go get our taxi,” Doug instructed Bill. “I’ll keep an eye on Ernie.”

Bill went outside and hailed Leo, who was waiting with other drivers in the parking area—happy to be working at night.

Finally, Ernie left the bar with a girl clutching his arm. The Goodwin brothers cautiously followed him outside and walked directly to their waiting taxi. Lazer walked close behind and sat in the front seat next to Leo.

“We want you to wait and follow that car,” Doug told Leo.

Nodding that he understood, Leo followed as Ernie left in his chauffeur driven automobile.

As he had offered before, Doug said, “Don’t loose him and I’ll give you an extra fifty pesos.”

They traveled a zigzag direction back to Charlie’s house; so it was true that Ernie lived with Charley. Leo had done his job and proved to be a reliable driver.

“We’ve connected those two characters, Charley and Ernie” Bill said. “We might as well go home.”

“Ye, we’ve done all the damage we can do today,” Doug responded and directed Leo to take them to the Sheraton.

“We need a driver in the morning at 6a.m.,” Bill said to Leo. “Will you be available?”

“Yes sir, I’ll be here early.”

With that assurance, they returned to their rooms. Upon entering their hotel rooms, each man collapsed on his bed, still feeling the last remnants of jet lag. Thoughts of future activities remained in their minds for several minutes, finally, sleep came.

Two hours later Bill awoke with a start—he must have had a wild nightmare. With perspiration running down his forehead, he lay in the bed wondering how Doug could sleep so soundly. Bill was the alarm clock in times of stress, and Doug was the early riser during peaceful times—It must be due to Bill’s volatile imagination. He and Doug were a well-balanced team. Bill slept well during the planning stages and not during danger. Doug was opposite; he liked to work around the clock when a plan was coming together and slept deeply when the action was near.

Bill arose and restlessly wandered around the hotel room, looking at his watch every few minutes. Because of the darkness, the early hour of four o’clock was like midnight, but his mind knew it was only