Chapter 14: The Manila Palm

Aaron and Marta arrived at the Manila Palm hotel without incident just before noon. Service was swift and the concierge gracious as he welcomed Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick warmly.

"We have you booked through the ninth. Is that correct?"

"Yes, thank you," Aaron responded, watching from the corner of his eye as the bellhop took their luggage. "We plan on sleeping in tomorrow to recover from the long flight."

"Of course; shall I have the maid service postponed until, say, two o'clock?" the concierge asked obligingly.

"Perfect," Marta said. Noting a restaurant and a few store fronts in the palatial atrium of the grand hotel, she asked, "Is the restaurant serving lunch?"

"Yes, ma'am. If you wish, I will have a table prepared for you immediately."

"Very good," Aaron interjected and flashed his gold watch as he looked at its face. "I have an appointment in less than an hour. We'll dine now, if you will be so kind as to send our things to the room."

The man nodded, directing the bellhop to proceed upstairs to the penthouse with their luggage.

"Please take good care of my wife while I'm out. See she has everything she needs."

"With pleasure. Thank you, sir," the man responded taking a large bill Aaron passed him in a handshake. He walked them to the restaurant and asked the hostess to show them to a private table in their garden patio before leaving them with a bow.

Safe, for the time being, in their secluded dining setting, they relaxed a little. Aaron, acting as William Fitzpatrick, ordered a salad for Marta, a seafood dish for himself, and requested a fine bottle of white wine by name and year.

The waiter nodded approvingly. "Right away, sir."

When he left, Aaron grinned at Marta. He looked more like himself than he had all day. "I could get used to this."

"I wish," Marta smiled wistfully, breathing in the heady scent of tropical flowers surrounding them. "Is it back to a rank fishing boat or a hostel hovel tomorrow night?"

"No!" he replied, in mock offense. "I've lined up a perfectly good cardboard box in a back alley of the slums."

Marta groaned. "I would laugh if that wasn't a real possibility."

The waiter approached and poured their wine. "Mr. Fitzpatrick" tasted and approved the bottle. Alone, Aaron was himself again and held his glass to Marta. "In for a penny, in for a pound."

"So we are." She gently clinked her glass to his and sipped the pale amber liquid. It was heavenly. "Do you know where we're staying tomorrow night yet?"

"I'll figure that out this afternoon, after I check out the morgue. We really need to be out of Manila as soon as we have the program medication. The city will be crawling with Byer's actives Wednesday morning, if not tomorrow night. We probably have a very small window of time to get back to the states before they figure out what we've done."

"They'll know we're after the pills once he discovers we came back here," Marta surmised and took a large gulp of the wine. She would need half the bottle to calm her nerves.

"Yes," Aaron acknowledged, "But the small window of time has just as much to do with Jason Bourne and Pamela Landy as it does Eric Byer."

"Oh?" her head tilted in question, curious to hear his answer, but waited as the waiter served their lunch.

When he left, Aaron explained, "Bourne is in Washington for a reason. If he escaped whatever program he was a part of, he should've stayed under the radar and kept running. But he's got himself splashed on national prime-time news in the heart of the U.S. government."

He took a few bites and continued, "The assassination of the journalist will raise questions. Someone will investigate why Bourne would kill him. It won't take them long to figure out at least part of the truth, when they look into it, especially if Pamela Landy makes use the spotlight the press now has trained on her."

"I'm sure she knows she's NRAG target number one right now," Aaron stated. "She's worse off than even Bourne is."

"Or us," Marta added wryly.

"Hey, we're only numbers three and four on the hit list. It's not so bad," Aaron pointed out, drinking from his wine glass.

"Great," Marta grimaced. "And once they know we've poached the pills?"

"Don't ask."

Aaron finished his meal, anxious to get going. "It really is a good thing that Byer has to split his resources to target all of us, though. Bourne's operations group is dead; if not a while ago, then definitely by now. They've wiped out all of Outcome. That only leaves the alpha program and they're down one agent, thanks to you."

He swallowed the rest of his wine after toasting her with a proud lift of an eyebrow and a crooked grin. His blue eyes danced. "This has to be Byer's worst nightmare."

"And mine," Marta said sadly, though she hated to dampen his mood. She poured herself another glass of wine.

Aaron reached over and took her hand, his expression now dead serious. "There's no better time for us to do this. We aren't alone in this. Bourne is out to gut the rot. I know it. Pamela Landy may not be talking right now-I'm sure she's scared stiff-but she will. She'll know her only hope is to speak out, if not before we reach her, then certainly when we make contact and let her know we have tangible proof."

"Landy is connected to Bourne," he continued. "Her indictment includes harboring him as a terrorist, so if we can't get to him directly, she'll be the means. Your suggestion to use her lawyer was brilliant. Our plan is sound; this can work. We just need to get back to the U.S. before they neutralize the threat."

"I'll get us there in time," he promised confidently.

Marta wasn't sure if it was Aaron's speech or the alcohol, but she felt better. The beauty and splendor around them was beginning to dull her fears. There was no sense in wasting the gorgeous setting they found themselves in now. Who knows what accommodations they would be in tomorrow night, she figured.

"You're right," she finally smiled. "I'm going to take advantage of being here at this lovely hotel while I have the chance."

A gentlemanly "William Fitzpatrick" brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it sweetly as a server cleared their plates. When the young man was out of earshot, a very ungentlemanly Aaron Cross told her, "Glad to hear it; I was hoping to take advantage of you here tonight, as well."