Episode Thirteen: A Light on The Horizon

Don drew his multicab to a halt in the rutted car park of 88 Cafe and leapt out the cab. Rohelio and Gabriel likewise slid along the lateral benches and leapt from the back of the vehicle, where Don was inspecting the lower part of the vehicle. ‘They need to fix these potholes. They do nothing for your undercarriage.’ he muttered.

Gabriel rubbed his own, slightly painful, hindquarters. ‘Trust me, my undercarriage agrees with you.’ he quipped. He noticed that Don was carrying Verity’s backpack, and struggling a little under the weight. ‘How many pairs of shoes does she have in there?’ he joked.

‘I’m hoping it’s her laptop, and not a couple of bricks.’ Don replied.

They made their way into the cafe, deeply impressed by the attractiveness of the place, and sat down under the same gazebo as the others.

‘Well, it seems the gang’s all here – and it's expanded.’ Don commented.

‘Yes, we have the Mayor of Ormoc City, Ma’am Joy Abad...’ Verity began.

‘I take it you two have...’ Gabriel checked, a little apprehensively.

‘Yes, boss, I have apologised.’ Verity sighed.

‘And I have forgiven her, this time.’ Joy grinned.

Verity's smile was even wider. ‘And we also have my best friend since childhood and star witness for the prosecution, Charlotte Chapman.’ she beamed.

‘Ah! Great! The undead are among us. Good to meet you, Charlotte. I hope you’re not a zombie.’ Don extended his hand for her to shake, which she did.

‘I wouldn’t worry, if I were you. Zombies eat brains, so you’re safe.’ Verity joked. ‘These are retired Police Scotland officer Donald McLeish, Chief Editor of the Island Times, and my boss, Gabriel De La Cruz, and I believed you seem to already know Rohelio Gomez of NBI Ormoc.’

‘And this...’ Charlotte pointed out a small, but wiry, older woman to her right, ‘...is the wonderful Gloria Amparo: the woman who saved my life.’

‘All I did was pull you from the sea, take you ashore, keep you sedated until the drugs wore off and helped you see sense. You and God did the rest.’ Gloria said, modestly.

Verity realised someone had been left out and gestured towards her. ‘And last, but absolutely not least, is Detective Roberta Gonzalez of Ormoc City Police.’

They all nodded, shook hands and introduced themselves, before taking their seats at the table.

Don cleared his throat. ‘Okay, it’s time to declare this meeting to order, and my order will be chicken schnitzel, chips and one of those drinks where they charge you a fortune to half-fill your glass with ice, because I am a foreigner, so I might as well look like one.’

Verity smiled. ‘That ship sailed a long time ago.’

‘Is he always like this?’ Joy asked Verity.

‘For as long as I’ve known him.’ Verity told her.

‘That would turn me lesbian too.’ Joy jibed.

Verity was a little taken aback. ‘No, I’m not... Honest, I’m not. I like men. Just not... older men.’ she stammered.

‘They go overseas and all of a sudden they’re fussy.’ Don joked, as he held out Verity’s backpack to her. ‘Didn’t want to leave this in the multicab. You've either got Imelda Marcos’ shoe collection in there or, I suspect, your laptop.’

‘He’s not as daft as he looks.’ Verity jibed back.

‘And if you do, you might want to have a look at this...’ Don handed her the bright pink pen drive he'd received from Maja, through Heart.

‘What do we have here?’ Verity mused, as she opened her laptop, turned it on and put the pen drive into one of the USB slots. A few clicks later and she was viewing the files.

‘Oh man! Oh man! Thank you, Jesus! We have him!’ she exclaimed. ‘I mean, we totally have him!’

‘What do you mean?’ Don asked.

They all got out of their seats and gathered around the back of the couch where Verity was seated.

Verity began. ‘I’ve always wondered – we’ve always wondered – how that scumbag gets away with it: how he can do what he does in plain sight and never get caught.’

‘He has diplomatic immunity.’ Roberta stated.

‘Yeah, but how does a small time, cross-dressing thug like him get diplomatic immunity? How does he avoid prosecution every time?’ Verity continued.

‘By blackmail. He uses photos and video of people in compromising positions in his establishments and uses them to manipulate those people into doing what he wants.’ Charlotte told the group. ‘I know for sure. He used me to do it. He did it to me too.’

‘So what if those photos and videos were in our hands as well as his?’ Verity asked.

Don was stunned. ‘You’re joking. You have to be... No! It can’t be!’ he stammered.

Verity made no attempt to conceal her delight. ‘Maja Hernandez and your friend Heart have just given us the keys to the kingdom. He’s finished now. Totally finished.’

‘Ya wee beauty!’ Don exclaimed. Loudly.

Much to the shock of the other customers. They turned around like meercats to stare at this weird, white and loud foreigner.

‘Sorry, I'm just really excited about fried chicken steak in batter and chips served in a wee basket.’ Don explained, lying through his teeth. ‘Have a nice evening, ladies and gentlemen.’

Don turned to his companions, his scraggly eyebrows that badly needed trimmed arched over eyes that were wide and feverish with excitement. ‘Okay, we have around twenty-one and a half hours to bring down a global criminal network that has enslaved thousands of people and ruined countless lives. We are seven people. We have three vehicles. And after this dinner, we probably won’t have a lot of money. So, tell me, Avengers, what’s the plan?’

‘Okay, I’ve got him wrong. He could be fun.’ Joy muttered aside to Verity.

‘In small doses.’ Verity told her.

Charlotte began. ‘Tomorrow a grand reception will be held for the great and the good at Residencia Abad...’

‘...hosted by me.’ Joy interpolated.

‘...to which Deputy Chief of Mission of the Embassy of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Ma’am Norma Jones has been invited.’ Charlotte continued.

‘We will present our evidence to her and persuade her to lift Shiloh Stalker Valdez’s diplomatic immunity.’ Verity stated.

‘And if she isn’t willing?’ Gabriel asked them.

Verity smiled, pointing at her laptop. ‘I can be surprisingly persuasive. Once that is over, we will head to the Bellavista Event Centre, where I will appear to be “trafficked” so that no-one suspects a thing, but will, in fact, be capturing the story of a lifetime.’

‘This is where I come in.’ Rohelio began. ‘We have personnel embedded in their catering and technical crew.’

‘How did you manage that?’ Don asked him, his tone betraying a sense of respect for his Filipino friend and colleague.

Rohelio smiled knowingly. ‘Persuasion.’ he stated.

Don laughed and gestured towards Rohelio. ‘You threatened the manager with aiding and abetting charges.’

Rohelio grinned. ‘Hey, it's a blunt weapon, but it works. We also have that place kitted out with surveillance cameras. Every inch is covered with motion-sensitive Go Pros. Those things are so good that last night we discovered a new species of mosquito.’

Roberta spoke up. ‘We’ll also have personnel on the ground.’

‘How?’ Rohelio asked.

Roberta had that same smug, knowing grin. ‘They were “International” class.’

Verity was taken aback. ‘They got through the audition?’ she asked, her tone full of disbelief.

‘Some. Others are currently undergoing workplace counselling and another is getting medical help for her obesity, but enough made it through.’ Roberta clarified.

‘So the plan is...’ Don began, teasing it out of his friends.

Charlotte answered first. ‘We get his immunity lifted.’

Rohelio was next. ‘We record him in the act of selling our women to some serious international traffickers.’

Roberta chimed in. ‘Then we bust every single one of them so hard they spend the next thirty years learning to moonwalk in Cebu Detention Centre.’

‘And I publish the article that exposes the whole conspiracy.’ Verity practically sang with joy in anticipation.

Don stood up and interjected. ‘Well... perhaps not.’

The other six people stared at him in blatant disbelief.

‘But Don, that’s what we came here for. That’s what we’re all trying to achieve. What do you mean?’ Verity asked him.

‘Well, we’ll get there, but not quite like that.’ he began, starting to slowly pace around the outside of the gazebo. ‘Allow me to explain. At precisely seven AM tomorrow morning, our new friend Heart Osorio will arrive at work at the Sabin Resort Hotel. Safe in the knowledge that Shiloh Stalker Valdez will be enjoying his beauty sleep after a hard night partying by the pool, Heart will call the room of his right hand woman, Maja Estrella Hernandez.’

Verity interrupted him. ‘But won’t she be sleeping too?’

‘Ah, you might think so, but no. You see, most of Pink Boy Media’s hangers on are leeches, living off Valdez’s ill-gotten gains and contributing nothing to the company. Maja, however, is the mainstay. She is the one who keeps it afloat. Tomorrow is a huge day for them, so she will have gone to bed early with industrial strength ear plugs in her ears to block out the racket around the pool.’

‘But how will she hear the phone when Heart will call?’ Rohelio asked.

Don already had the answer to that one. ‘She will already be awake and getting herself ready when the call comes. As soon as she is dressed, she will go down to reception to pick up a message warning her that her boss in danger.’

‘From whom?’ Joy asked.

‘A Russian hitman paid by the CIA.’ Don explained.

‘Wow! He really is quite the story-teller.’ Joy smiled, not believing a word of it.

Don was undeterred. ‘She will call me, agree a place and time, and both her and her boss will hand themselves over to the authorities to avoid being victims of Russian aggression. Bish-bash-bosh! Criminals in the bag. Verity isn’t trafficked and can safely go back to dressing like a boy. I thank you!’ He bowed at his own performance. ‘I’d be here all week if the drinks weren’t so expensive.’

Joy laughed and applauded him. ‘Wow! You are quite something. CIA? Russian hitman? Very amusing.’

At that precise moment, Michael, the CIA station chief, strolled out of the Port of Ormoc, carrying a small overnight bag, having been on the last Oceanjet fast craft from Cebu. He hailed a passing tricycle. ‘Carlosta, Dong.’ he instructed the driver, who nodded and revved up his engine, before driving away from the port with Michael in the passenger seat

Don scowled briefly, but had more to say. ‘Of course, there is one small problem.’

Joy prepared herself for the next bout of ridiculousness. ‘Okay, humour me. What is the “small problem”?’

‘I’m more than a little bit concerned about that.’ He pointed upwards.

Above their head, faint through the light pollution above their heads, billions of stars were twinkling in the clear evening sky.

‘What? Aliens?’ Joy teased him.

‘No, not the stars! The shadow!’ Don corrected her.

They looked upward, outside the gazebo.

‘Oh man! Don’t all look at once!’ Don scolded them.

Sure enough, way above their heads, they could just make out a silhouette of something small, hovering in the velveteen black.

‘What is that?’ Verity asked.

‘A drone.’ Don replied. ‘And since it's that high and flying at night and watching us, it can only mean one thing.’

‘CIA?’ Verity volunteered.

‘CIA.’ Don agreed.

‘I still don’t get it. Why would the CIA be following us?’ Joy asked.

‘Perhaps because of this.’ Verity was staring at her laptop. They all gathered around her once more.

‘Hey! Look at this! They have something!’ one of the CIA operatives almost spilled his chicken and rice he'd bought from a nearby barbecue stand all over his keyboard.

His colleague, eating while sitting on the end of his bed, squinted over at his colleague’s screen. ‘Come on! You know Filipinos. They’re probably watching something on TikTok.’

Joy's mouth gaped in shock. The others too looked on in stunned, but guilty, can’t-look-but-don’t-want-to-look-away amazement.

‘Is that...?’ Joy began.

‘None other than the director of the CIA.’ Verity told them.

‘That is not a legal use of handcuffs.’ Rohelio commented dryly, his eyes transfixed by what he was seeing.

‘He hasn’t read her Miranda rights.’ Don added, only to add a few seconds later, ‘Oh, there you go. Good man. By the book.’

Verity chuckled. ‘Those aren’t her Miranda rights. And they certainly aren’t right. They are very, very wrong.’ She stopped the video and closed down the laptop lid. ‘Okay, enough of that smut.’

‘So they are following us because their director is a bastos?’ Joy asked.

‘No, they are following us because they are using our investigation to lead them to Valdez, because for all their conscientious police work, they have nothing.’ Don corrected her. ‘But my guess is that they would also quite like the idea of annihilating his network and anyone attached to it.’

‘So they can cover up the fact that their director is a bastos.’ Joy interjected.

‘And to stop material like that falling into the hands of other criminal gangs who could use it to manipulate him.’ Don added.

‘Because he is a bastos.’ Joy persisted.

‘We can’t let them get to that pen drive or to Charlotte.’ Don told them. ‘They will destroy evidence. I’m sure of it.’

‘By evidence, you mean me?’ Charlotte asked, afraid of the answer.

‘You and the pen drive.’ Don told her directly.

Joy began to outline her plan. ‘So, you need a plan to get her out of here, get her somewhere safe, and ensure that the wonderful Mayor of Ormoc City is above suspicion in this whole mess.’

‘Well, the first two. The third I’m a little indifferent to.’ Don told her.

Joy was not at all pleased. ‘Hey!’ she scolded him.

‘Come on! You’re squeaky clean! You could do with a bit of dirt on you. It'd make you more interesting.’ Don quipped.

‘Okay, maybe I don’t like you so much now.’ Joy pouted. ‘But I do have a plan. We just need to get to New City Hall, and you...’ She looked straight at Verity, ‘...need to call your friend Jerry.’

An hour later, Jerry Hermaño, a late middle-aged, tattooed man who ran the motorbike hire shop out past the Sabin Resort Hotel, arrived at New City Hall in a flatbed truck and was ushered by security staff into an underground parking lot. The truck’s brakes hissed like an angry snake as it drew to a halt. He hopped out the cab, dropped the flap at the back, climbed onto the rear of the truck and released the bindings on a Yamaha Mio Max 125cc motorbike, identical to the one Verity was riding. Then, gently so as not to harm the merchandise, he lowered it onto the asphalt and closed the flap on his truck.

And then he waited.

Back at 88 Cafe, Don needed clarity on one aspect of Joy’s quite brilliant plan. ‘Okay, I agree, Gloria and Verity do have similar builds.’

‘Are you saying I have the build of an older woman?’ Verity interjected, disgruntled at the thought.

‘Hey! I’m loving this!’ Gloria protested. ‘I mean, look at you: you’re International class!’

Verity smiled bashfully. ‘I kind of am, aren’t I?’

Don scowled at them for interrupting. ‘But to make them look alike, we need some dark, morose biker clothes. You know the ones I mean? They have that “I’m not a lesbian, I’m just an angry feminist with a chip on my shoulder towards men; I'm not a goth, I’m just creatively sad” kind-of vibe.’

Verity scolded him again. ‘Hey! Come on! Feelings!’

Joy chuckled. ‘I have a teenage daughter. What do you think?’

‘Okay, so I'm young again. That’s good.’ Verity smiled.

Don turned to Gloria. ‘But can you ride?’ he asked her.

Gloria smiled knowingly. ‘I’m from the provinces. I learned when I was still a child.’

‘But can you ride like a lunatic that doesn’t fear the reaper?’ Don asked her.

‘Hey! Feelings! Again!’ Verity yelped.

Gloria smiled even wider. ‘I’m from the provinces.’

‘Okay. I think I’m with you now. But just one last question: why New City Hall?’ Don asked.

Now it was Joy’s turn to smile smugly, like someone who knows their plan is fool-proof, and she told them why with just one word.

‘Multicabs.’

There was a knock at the door of a room on the top floor of the Carlosta Hotel.

‘Did you order room service again?’ one CIA agent asked the other.

‘No. Did you?’ his colleague asked.

‘Answer the door, you mga boyoyoy!’ a strong male voice they knew all too well barked at them.

‘Sorry, boss.’ one said.

‘Yeah, sorry.’ the other concurred.

‘Then why am I still on the wrong side of this door?’ their boss snarled.

They opened it quick smart.

‘If you two get me a sheet of paper, I’ll get you refunds on your college fees.’ Michael snapped at them. ‘Honestly. Okay, now tell me what you know. And this should not take long.’

‘Charlotte Chapman is alive.’ one said.

‘We established that this morning.’ Michael seethed, more than fed up with their incompetence.

‘She survived a raid on the police station where she was arrested, and is now meeting with Detective Gonzalez’s team at the 88 Cafe.’ the second one told him, before staring at him, looking for any sign of validation.

Which he did not get.

‘We are convinced they are plotting something, sir.’ the first one told him.

‘And we’re sure they know more than us.’ the second one added, still looking in vain for that validation.

‘That is not a great stretch. Amoebas know more than you two. Okay, keep your eyes on them and let me know if anything happens.’ Michael instructed them. ‘I’m going to the hotel restaurant for dinner. Do not join me.’ And then he was gone, seated within minutes at a brown wooden table, on yellow cushioned chairs, next to a big window with a view of passing traffic on the highway, waiting for his food to arrive.

Thirty minutes later, after a quick stop at Residencia Abad for a clothing change, and an escape from Joy’s husband Alejandro’s thoroughly bewildered questioning, the multicab, motorbike and a black mayoral SUV headed down the hillside to Ormoc City Centre, trailed from the sky by a pernicious drone, remotely piloted by two determined CIA agents. Don was seriously miffed that no-one wanted to ride in his multicab, but at least that meant it could go a little bit faster, even if it made the suspension a little bit bouncier.

They arrived at New City Hall around a further half an hour later and rolled into the VIP underground parking lot. In the full, blinding beam of the vehicle headlights they could see an entire fleet of five pristinely cleaned white multicabs, and one slightly impatient motorbike shop owner, standing by the bike he was about to hire.

‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming. Much later and I would have been breaking curfew.’ Jerry told Verity as she dismounted, now dressed from head to tow in black biker gear once more. ‘What’s wrong?’ He gestured towards her bike ‘Is she broken?’

‘No, she rides like a dream.’ Verity told him. ‘I just wanted to share that dream with someone else.’

Right then and there, the black SUV disgorged its contents: one mayor, two police officers (one in uniform, the other not), one smartly dressed newspaper editor, one white, blond foreigner in a long, demure, flowery dress, and a real sight for sore eyes: a retired woman dressed in black jeggings and sneakers, a black t-shirt, black leather jacket and black biking gloves.

Jerry chuckled at Gloria. ‘Agay! You are magnificent!’

‘And don’t you forget it!’ Gloria told him as she approached the bike. ‘Now let's ride, before these pants climb so far up my crotch that I sing like a canary.’

Don sauntered over to Jerry from his now parked multicab. ‘For the record, this is not my plan.’ he told him.

The drone hovered over New City Hall, its feed now intently monitored by both agents. ‘What on earth are these people doing?’ one of them asked.

‘No idea.’ the other one told him. ‘But I have a feeling the boss is going to want to hear about this.’ the other responded.

Having borrowed a crash helmet from Jerry, Gloria was ready and itching to go. She and Verity were set, side by side, to burst out of the parking lot and give those CIA people something to think about.

Behind them: Joy, Roberta, Rohelio, Gabriel and Don were all in the driving seats of separate white city council multicabs, connected to each other by mobile phones they were all charging from their vehicles’ battery.

‘Okay.’ Joy told them. ‘You know the plan. The stop off points are the wet market, food park, transport hubs, SM Centre and here.’

‘Will SM Centre be open? Most of the shops are closed already?’ Don asked.

‘The cinema will still be open.’ Roberta told him.

Joy continued. ‘We move around, we swap out, we basically confuse the drone pilots.’

‘Won’t be hard. I'm confused already. I reiterate: not my plan.’ Don muttered unhappily.

Joy was oblivious. ‘At least two at every stop at all times. Charlotte switches between us. We wait two minutes and then we go. Sige?’

‘Sige!’ the others replied, except for Don.

‘Wait, I have some more questions...’ he started.

‘GO!’ Joy yelled excitedly.

The two motorcycles roared out of the parking lot, taking the security guard by surprise. One turned left on CS Mendola Street, heading straight for Apo Street and the Rotunda; the other turned right, and then right again for Anunbing Street, and then left down Don Filipe Larrazabal Road and took the Diversion Road through Naungan.

The two CIA agents were beside themselves. They bounced up and down on their seats. ‘Sir! Sir! Something is happening! They’re on the move!’ they yelled excitedly at Michael down one of their mobile phones.

‘Do you mind? My dinner has just arrived. Tell me where they are when they get there.’ Michael swatted them aside, thoroughly unimpressed.

The multicabs came next. ‘I’ll head south to the wet market.’ Joy told them smartly.

‘Me too, Ma’am.’ Roberta agreed.

‘I’ll head to SM with Gabriel.’ Rohelio added.

‘What about me? Where will I go?’ a frustrated Don cut in.

‘You’re the libero this round.’ Gabriel told him. ‘Head to the food park. Wait on Imelda Street for one of the ladies. Don’t move until two minutes after they arrive. Okay?’

‘Okay. I guess.’

Suddenly he heard three thumps behind him, from the back of the multicab.

‘I think this thing has a fault. I heard knocking.’ Don told them.

‘That means Charlotte is lying down inside your passenger area.’ Joy told him.

‘Huh?’ Don asked, totally confused.

‘Just go!’ Joy shouted excitedly, as all five multicabs set off, one after the other.

‘What on earth is going on?’ one of the CIA agents asked, as five Ormoc City Council multicabs emerged from the New City Halls at the same time and headed off in different directions. ‘Who do I follow?’

The other agent thought for a second. ‘Chapman is tall. Those bikers were not. None of them is her. So leave them. She must be in one of the multicabs.’

‘But which one?’ his colleague asked.

It was almost balletic. Balletic because it was the perfect plan to confuse anyone watching – like a Chinese Cups magic trick, but with people and multicabs.

While the two motorcyclists had a serene ride through the city and out onto the Merida Road, the five multicabs played a merry game with the watching CIA agents.

First the grumpy Don, still muttering his disapproval, parked on Imelda Street, close to the Food Park. After around five minutes wait, Joy parked on the other side of the Food Park. Charlotte rapped on Don’s window, waved and bolted through the Food Park, weaving past food stands with raw meat to barbecue, and cotton candy, and breadcrumbed, fried hard-boiled eggs. She reached Joy's multicab, banged on her cab three times, and ducked down out of sight.

‘We have her! We have her! She’s in the Mayor’s vehicle!’ one of the agents shouted victoriously.

Rohelio and Gabriel were the decoys at the SM Centre. But not for long. Rohelio stayed. Gabriel headed south to the wet market. Joy headed north. Roberta headed east, to the Food Park, where a thoroughly confused and disgruntled Don had decided to buy some barbecue and puso.

Joy drove into the SM Centre car park and met Rohelio on the second level. Charlotte switched vehicles, knocking on Rohelio's cab, before both drove out of the mall at the same time, and then in different directions: Joy to New City Hall, Rohelio to the City Bus Terminal.

‘Wait... what the..?’ the agent piloting the drone was already lost. ‘What is going on?’

Roberta got a little ratty when she saw Don dipping his puso in a little baggie of soy sauce and vinegar. She explained to him again what they were supposed to be doing. Don, still not quite getting it, headed for the wet market, where he met Gabriel, for a quiet, but ultimately ‘pointless’ (Don’s words) drive through the narrow wet market alleyways.

They were the decoy.

Then come the double decoy, when Rohelio met Gabriel at the City Bus Terminal, but Charlotte didn’t run out onto the diesel-puddled concourse, staying right where she was.

Now the agents’ brains were deep fried.

Rohelio passed her to Roberta at the SM Centre. Joy and Gabriel decoyed at the Food Park. Don stopped for some Jollibee fries and a drink.

Roberta to Gabriel at New City Hall. Joy and Rohelio decoyed at SM Centre. Don parked up outside LBC Rizal and sipped his drink. Joy yelled at him to join the game. Don spilled his drink on his trousers.

And so it went on and on. All the time, Verity and Gloria were enjoying a wonderful evening ride towards Merida, through small villages, round Ormoc Bay and under the shadows of the hills, dodging the occasional sleeping dog or frantic road-crosser, all while laughing at the antics going on in Ormoc.

Two hours since the game began, and the drone having been withdrawn as utterly useless, the final play took place. Don picked up Charlotte from Joy in the rather less salubrious surroundings of the wet market. She rapped on his cab. He drove off, back to New City Hall’s VIP car park, as did Joy, where Rohelio, Roberta and Gabriel were waiting.

‘Haven’t seen the drone for a while now. I reckon we fooled them.’ Don smiled.

‘I reckon we fooled you.’ Joy winked.

‘So what’s the plan now?’ Don asked.

‘We get Charlotte to a safe place, away from all this madness, and keep her there until Valdez and his crazies are behind bars.’ Rohelio proposed.

‘I know just the place.’ Don told them, before turning to Charlotte. ‘And now we can take you there in the cab.’

While the FBI officers raged and blamed each other and studied recordings of what happened to try to work out what on earth had gone wrong, Joy sped to Residencia Abad in her black SUV, Don quietly dropped Roberta, Rohelio and Gabriel off at their homes, before driving Charlotte all the way to La Vista Del Rio.

Verity and Gloria, having washed after their bike ride, had ordered a late dinner and were sitting around the outside table underneath a gazebo, overseen by their exhausted hosts, waiting on Charlotte and Don. They shared food and fun conversation too far towards midnight until they eventually turned in for the night, and Don headed home.

The overnight sailing to Ormoc from Cebu was well into its journey by then. The seated section was restless. The economy room was listless. The tourist room was bothered by a young child who kept saying over and over again in fluent English, ‘I was looking for you, Mummy, and now I've found you!’ The staff were sleepless and feeling the strain.

But in the VIP cabin a man, who wasn’t on the manifest and had paid on board in cash for his room, lay sleeping like a baby. This man could throw all of their plans into chaos in a moment.

This man was coming with one intention only: to kill Shiloh Stalker Valdez.

This man was Alexei Orlov.