I don't go too far before I notice the tail. It's no real surprise. Alishka didn't get to be headquarter's favourite dog without learning how to cover her bases. Still, this is a weak effort. She probably thought she could get me in the bar, and these guys are spotters using their own initiative. There are two, both men, big, and tough, dressed like locals, which they probably are. They have me front and follow. At each cross street I track a third, moving parallel to us, ready to intercept if I break down an alley.
They don't seem likely to attack me, so I ignore them while I think. The question is who has the case. It seems to me that HQ think I have it already, given the questions Alishka was asking. The story they've come up with is that I sold out to that PMC, Vortex, who has my sister, probably because they have my sister. The Americans are very good at that kind of persuasion.
Since I wasn't working for Vortex, and HQ doesn't have the case, there are two possibilities.
First, the Americans, or whoever Sidmore actually represented, still have it. I consider this a less likely possibility. Given Alishka is sorting this mess out, HQ are probably the ones who put this job together. They gave me a lot of data, and I've never known them not to have someone inside a target's protection. If the case was still in the possession of Sidmore's heirs, or the Americans more generally, they would known, and I would have the balance of my fee and a stern talking to.
Without even really thinking about it, I take a sudden turn. The alley stinks of piss and garbage but it's dark, which is what I need. As I step in I turn, letting the guy trailing me see me go, as if I'm going to turn and ambush them as they come in. Instead I sprint down the alley, moving as fast as I can. The guy on the cross street turns in. His buddies have called him and he thinks he has the clever plan of coming up behind me. Instead, I'm almost on top of him and have a needle from my bag already in motion. It plunges through his neck and he drops, dead immediately as I sever his spine.
I leave the needle where it is, not wanting any more blood on me. The other two come around the other end of the alley, knives in hand. I draw my own knife and wait. As they charge I kick a stray bottle into the legs of one of them and he spills over with a crunch. The other glances at him in passing, a fatal mistake. I step in and slash the back of his knife hand, disarming him, then punch my other hand into his throat and break it.. Bottle guy tries to get up and I two hand my knife through his temple. Blood bubbles around the handle and he goes down.
I pull the blade out and clean it on his T-shirt. The first guy has finished dying so I pull the needle out of him, clean it and put it back in my bag.
I think this is probably going to have to be the last set of bodies I'll leave tonight. The problem with bodies is that they're going to leave a big trail for the police, or HQ to follow. I decide I'd rather only have one set of enemies know where I was, and pull my phone. It's not actually a phone, though it looks like one, and you can switch it to connect to the local network. I don't need to do that though. I call in a dinner reservation for three over one of the apps, and give my location, then switch off and walk away. That'll rumble me to HQ, but at least it'll repel the police and the Americans.
I get attacked several more times as I head back towards the main street. I assume that there's already a bounty out for me. Some of these guys might just be spectacularly unlucky muggers who see only a lone woman with dyed hair and not very much clothing. Still, five times in half an hour is too much for either Alishka's cover teams or local muggers. It's clear I'm being actively hunted.
I try to leave as many of them alive as possible. Fortunately they're all trash, but each one is a ripple in the world's surface tension. I need to get out of here fast. As soon as I'm on the main street I hail a taxi, give them a semi-random address in another place I can easily get a taxi and ride out. The Cabby might recognise me, but right now, I just need to get free of the webs trying to restrain me.
Assuming the Americans don't have the case, and HQ don't have the case, there's really only one other group left in Manilla who could do this without HQ noticing. I feel a twitch of satisfaction at what circumstances will require me to do, which lasts through the whirl of different taxis and short walks between ranks that takes me to my destination. The last last taxi takes me through a park and into the walled city of Intramuros.
This is one of the oldest parts of Metro Manila, with buildings dating back to the sixteenth century. It's walled in, and most of it was flattened in WW2 and had to be reconstructed; a bit of a tourist trap, full of Philippine-Spanish architecture, old churches, social media people doing night filming. I merge into the traffic, smile at and ignore the propositions of some drunk foreigners, and walk down into one of the quieter side streets. It takes me down a row of houses, and I stop at the heavy wooden door of a freshly painted house. A discreet camera watches me from above the bell.
I ring and wait. After a while it opens to reveal a pretty young filipino woman about five centimetres shorter than my own one metre seventy. She's as stylish as ever, in an expensive white dress which manages to look ridiculously crisp. Unfortunately, neither it, nor her platinum jewellery, nor the gold ring on her finger can disguise the stiff pain in her movements.
"Maria." she says, mouth expressionless. Her eyes are so dilated that there's only a thin green band around the edges, like the diamond ring of an eclipse. Nothing about Charlie's methods have changed.
"Grace." I put a hand up and almost touch her. "Are you hurt?"
"It's nothing. I was clumsy. You're here to see Charles?"
"I need some information." I try to catch her eyes but she looks anywhere but at me, just steps out of the way and lets me into the hall. The inside of the house is a place of thick brown wood and old dark pictures of unsmiling English aristocrats. They regard us blankly as we go through the living room into the library.
Grace is as ever a careful homemaker. I'm not sure how much of the girl I used to know has survived, but I'm glad she's still neat. When I met her at Manilla college, her dorm was like a shrine to Marie Kondo. Everything in its place, every ornament and surface clean. It's like that here. Some vestige of her old self hanging on.
The library, Charles's domain, is exactly as I remember. A high ceiling and walls coated in old leather and gilt books. A globe and a tantalus and a large expensive rug in the middle next to a pair of overstuffed armchairs, one of which contains Charles. He's changed no more than his library. Still twenty years older than Grace, still artfully disarranged and wearing a fresh linen suit with a carnation at three AM. Still always looking like he's thinking about fucking you.
"So, the prodigal daughter returns." He rises, swilling the brandy in his glass with a smile "I was wondering if you might come to me."
"You know everything that goes down in Manilla, where else would I go?" I roll out a smile. "We're old friends aren't we?"
"HQ seems to think that you're a traitor." He waves me to the other chair. Grace moves to fix me a drink. "The contract on your life currently stands at three and a half million dollars. HQ are really quite concerned."
"And the Manila organisation?"
He laughs. "We are as ever, the Cabinet's loyal servants."
I sit back and put my bag on my knees demurely. "I'm not exactly sure why all this has happened. I got a contract, I did the job, perhaps not fully to the client's spec, but the man died, and now I'm being hunted. I think it has something to do with a case? Alishka mentioned it."
Charlies gets up, taking the brandy that Grace poured him and begins to walk the shelves. "I'm afraid you've become caught up in something my dear, a prisoner of the vast forces that ride below the skin of our world." He takes a sip of his drink and walks to the bookshelf. "Why do you think that you and the others were trained at the Facility."
"As assassins."
"But against whom?"
"You're talking about the legendary Opposition?"
"Yes. I'm afraid I am. They've played us for fools, even as we got involved in a war with the Americans. The raid on the Facility that took your sister from you was one of the first shots. Perhaps they even set it up." He takes a drink of his brandy and sighs. "For a long time, those of us who lived in the shadows had a rule against involving ourselves in the politics of states. It's a shame it had to come to an end."
"What changed then?"
"The world, I suppose. There are fewer and fewer shadows left. It was inevitable that we would eventually come into conflict with the great forces of the world. The Opposition was so weakened they needed somewhere to turn, and Moloch is a tempting master. It would have to be the Americans."
He's really being overdramatic. "So Sidmore was a member of the day world who got close to the Opposition. He was their agent?"
"Yes. And he was quite effective at it." He makes a face. "Him and the cabal around him. They have close links in the US government, a huge amount of money, power and resources. The Cabinet knew they had to be eliminated."
"And the case?"
"That's where things get interesting." He puts his brandy on a side table and pulls out one of the books to leaf through it. "What's in that case is vital but as far as I can tell, neither we nor the Americans have possession of it. I rather thought you might have helped Minerva Yeung steal it."
I smile a little. "I thought the story was that I'd betrayed the Cabinet to Vortex, what with my sister being involved."
"HQ have a line on the Americans. Yeung is a different quantity."
"Hmm. It's pretty." I lean back. "But Charlie, do you really think HQ will buy it? That I did this alone, and that the Manilla organisation had no knowledge of anything?"
"This would have been much easier if you'd just run to Yeung for safety. You always were difficult."
He turns but I'm already diving aside. It's a good move, he doesn't telegraph at all, just turns, looks and fires. If I had normal reflexes he'd have got me. As it is I'm dropping off the side of the chair and the bullet whips past my head with a twenty centimetres of clearance.
My own shots slam him back into the shelf and he collapses to one side, his gun clattering aside onto the floor.
Grace makes a shrill little laugh then covers her mouth. "Fucker! How does it feel! How does it feel that a woman killed you? You pig!" She rocks, and then her legs seem to give out and she slowly subsides down the wall. I walk over and toe the gun away from Charlie. I hit him in the gut and throat, and he's drowning in his own blood. His eyes look up at me.
"What's with that face? You're the one who tried to set me up, Charlie. What did you think would happen?"
A knife springs into his hand and he waves it at me, still trying to breathe. His hand flops and he starts to make an unpleasant bubbling sound. I leave him and step over to Grace. "I'm sorry I couldn't just kill him for hurting you."
She gives me a look. "Don't lie. You came here because you hoped he'd give you a reason. Always pretending you're a knight." She shivers "You monster! You've ruined me. You've ruined my family. It'll all come out now. All his poison. Why couldn't you just–"
"It's true. I am a monster." I kneel down next to her, and put the gun down on the floor where I can get it if I want to. Her eyes dart to it, then back to me as I raise her chin with one hand and use the other to pin her wrists above her head.. I want to devour her. To finally make good on pleasures long deferred. "But you're not yet ruined. I've given you the means to redeem yourself. Call Alishka in the morning. Tell her that I was here. Tell her about the Manilla Branch's little side project. Make a deal."
"I'd be selling you out." She looks away. "Every data point is one step closer to your death."
My knee pushes up between her legs. "Then I'll let you pay me back for your betrayal in advance." I lean in close. "And for your husband's life."
She moans and leans forward to kiss my mouth. I run a finger up till I find the heavy gold wedding ring on her finger and push it off. It clatters onto the floor next to us. I use the hand I have on her face to rub my thumb across her lips.
She makes a whimpering sound, "This is all you want?"
"No, there are a few other things. Some hours to rest here and prepare. Some information."
She looks me in the eyes, shivering. I let my hand fall between her legs.
"Tell me Grace. Where is the case?"
We've rebased up to Clark Air Base, about forty miles from Metro Manilla. The airstrip is busy with US and Filipino military personnel, and with several other PMCs, all parts of America's continuing attempt to pivot to Asia. They all give us a wide berth. Word has come down that we're not to be spoken to, and we have our own perimeter inside the base. A complex of hangers and trailers set up with its own guards and sensors. A pair of blackhawks and several little birds sit on the pads behind. A phalanx of cargo planes with more personnel and equipment are on their way across the Pacific, carrying more Vortex assets into an operation that I still don't really understand.
It doesn't take going back to the resort to learn that the case is gone. There's still a team up there, and a call through to them shows that they can't locate it. I'm not really surprised. It would be too simple if it was just in Sidmore's room safe. I should probably just report that back to Hendrix but then he might take the duty away from me. I'm not going to go hairing off without authorisation, but if I have a plan and a location, I'll likely still get to be in charge.
I head over to the intelligence shop. In a trailer next to one of the hangers. It's cool inside, ice cold and dry for the electronics, filled with a half dozen men and women on laptops. The forward shop is mostly about reception, with a lot of the actual analysis being done stateside, but I can get what I need here.
"Hey Doll." The shop's chief, Janice Savarkar, nods. She's a short, older Indian woman, formerly of the Indian army's intelligence, then hired to the US military on better wages. A common enough story for PMCs. "What's up? Did Hendrix send you?"
I decide it'd be best not to disabuse her of that notion. I've got orders from the top. "I need to check some electromagnetic signals. It would have come in with Sidmore."
"The mysterious case?"
"Yeah. Given it was chained to his wrist I was wondering if it had a beacon."
"Let's check." She walks over to one of her operators. "Peters, bring up the long from the convoys Junos." The Junos are the ELINT systems all our vehicles carry. They suck in basically every signal around them, though they don't have that much range. We have various airborne systems, mostly drone mounted, to extend it. Peters, the operator, is a pasty young woman who keeps glancing at me in a way that makes me wince. I have a boyfriend. It's not–
"Okay. Eliminate any logged sources and the mobile devices that the motorcade was carrying." The screen is showing a graph of wave forms. Peters taps some keys and homes in on the car carrying Sidmore.
"This looks like your tracking signal." Savarkar taps a finger on the back of the chair. "Let's have a map view." The signal tracks the convoy, then heads into one of the villas, then drops strength. "This is where it went into the safe."
Time ticks onward. "It reappears just about at the time of the attack." The timeline goes on and the signal vanishes. "And then they stick it into a faraday bag."
"Damn."
"Sorry Doll. These guys aren't playing around." Savarkar says.
"I really thought we'd have it there."
"No. It was a good shout." She grins. "And it didn't tell us nothing. We know when it was taken now. Let's see if we can find anything leaving the complex around that time. You guys cleared it room by room right? Did you see anything that looked like a Faraday bag?"
"No, but it could have been in some workers luggage. We didn't open everything."
"I'd hope the security team there searched everyone who left." Savarkar sniffs. "Peters, check and see if that wave-form pops back up anywhere. Use all this access we've suddenly got to get into the navy's collectors too."
"Sure thing boss." Peters sits down.
Savarkar smiles at me. "Why don't you go get a coffee or something? I'm going to have my team check the imagery we've got from around the resort and see if anything entered or left. I'll message you when we have results."
*****
I end up deciding to take a shower and a nap while Savarkar works. Even with modern AI and the like, an intelligence soak takes a while to assemble. We're connected to the base enough that water here is plentiful and I stand under the heat of the shower and let it wash over me.
This is one of the strangest gigs I've ever done. War is full of spooky unexplained stuff. I recall one time on patrol we found an entire base just abandoned in the middle of the desert, left over from some earlier part of the war on terror. What is the case, what was that strange hum?
Am I going to have to kill my sister?
Without really willing it, I begin to think about our fight. The quick precision of her moves. She was so strong. So fast. So beautiful. I hate that she's left me behind, but there amid the liquid heat of the sudsy water I find that even that falls away, just remembering, just thinking about, the way she moved, her quick smile. The way her muscles played as her knife came at me.
What if I'd let her win?
What if I'd let her take me away to some facility or that arms dealer's harem. What if she'd–
Outside, the phone begins to blurt out a ringtone. I blink and snatch my hands away. I wasn't–
I turn off the shower, towel myself down desperately and stumble out to the phone. Savarkar back already? No. It's my personal satellite phone. The name on the phone says Mark. I pull on a robe and then open my laptop. The satphone is just an alert. When we talk, it's usually over an encrypted voice and video app. Cheaper than paying for satellite time.
His face appears on the screen, and I try to admire it. He's a handsome guy. He looks more like a TV version of an FBI agent than an actual one. Trim, crew cut black hair, a handsome, regular face like a catalogue model. There's really so little that's distinct about him compared to any other reasonably good looking guy. Even the smile at me in a bathrobe is expected. "Hey Babe. Did I interrupt?"
"No. I just finished. What time is it there?"
"Ah. It's pretty late, and I think it's still yesterday here." He says. "Your Dad said he heard you got in some trouble. I wanted to check if you're okay?"
"I'm fine." I sit back, the familiar words coming. "I wasn't hurt at all."
"I'm sorry to worry. You told me this was supposed to be a safe job though, VIP escort or something?"
"Mark, you know I can't talk about that, not even on an encrypted line. Honestly I'd like to know where my dad got the info that anything had happened. I didn't think it had made the news."
"Oh. You know, Your dad and I work for the government. We hear things. Rumours are that you did something pretty heroic."
"Yeah. I guess so." My thoughts loop back to that image of my sister with the knife. "I guess I don't feel too good about it though. Several of our people died. I wasn't in time to save them."
"You know you can talk to me about anything. I'm your boyfriend." He smiles.
"I know." I rub my eyes. "I really am okay. I just, well, it brought up some old memories."
"Of the facility?"
A little flicker of cold travels up my spine. "Nothing that specific." I find the lie flowing out of me without even having to think about it hard. "How is Dad anyway?" My father is also FBI, not Mark's actual boss thank god, but they work in the same building.
"Oh. He's fine. Everything as usual." He smiles blandly. "You're okay though? Nothing bothering you?"
"I don't even have a scratch." I laugh. "I'm just really busy. Listen, I've got to go. I'll see you soon."
"See you soon Babe." He pauses. "You're taking your medication right?"
"You know I don't in the field." I wave. "I'm fine. Please don't worry."
I hit the disconnect key and chew my finger.
Was he trying to get information out of me?
Did my father ask him to make that call?
I'm going to need to tell Hendrix.
*****
Hendrix has somehow managed to get himself a proper office, with an office chair and everywhere, where he's seated, tapping away at a laptop. He looks up as I knock on the door and smiles, paternal. "Doll. I hear you've got the intelligence shop working up a location on our missing merchandise."
"Yes sir. Apologies if I went beyond the strict bounds of my mission."
"No. You showed initiative. It would have done no good for you to go down there and fail to find it." He waves me to a seat. "Once we've got a firmer location, I'll want you to take point in working it. You're the only one we have who might be able to take on your sister."
I nod, and glance away, not wanting to think about that. "... there was something else, Sir. My boyfriend called me earlier. It was a little strange."
"Oh?" He frowns.
"I think my Father asked him to do it. Sir, is there any reason why the FBI might be interested in what we're doing in the Philippines?"
"I can think of several." Hendrix rubs his chin. "Most notably, the presence of your sister, and whoever trained her."
Why am I afraid of the thought of my sister getting hunted down? She obviously made her choice. She's a killer. A bad guy. An enemy of America. She killed my comrades. I don't need to care about her at all.
Hendrix is still talking, my distress unnoticed. "Or it could be about this business with the case, and Sidmore."
"I assume that's above my clearance level."
"Yes. But I can tell you it's a stupid mess. Frankly I wish we'd never got involved in it, no matter how much of a payout it is." He shakes his head. "I'm going to call our lawyers about this. If the FBI are sniffing around it's definitely something to send up the chain. You did the right thing in bringing this to me."
"I'm loyal to the company, Sir."
No. A little voice inside me says. You just don't love Mark. That's stupid. I've been with him for five years. He's perfect. Well off, tall, handsome, caring and strong. He makes the world a better place. One of the good guys. When I get back to the states, I'm almost sure he'll give me an engagement ring. He's everything any woman could ever want.
Hendrix is about to say something else when there's a knock at the door. Savarkar pokes her head in. "Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but we've found it. We think we've located the case."
