Chapter 22: Manila Market

Outside, the couple leisurely walked in the direction of the bustling town market. Aaron peered down the street through gold-rimmed aviators. Marta was concerned about walking around town openly after having wrecked such havoc here only a couple of days ago. Their pictures and footage of the rampage must have been on the news. Glancing at Aaron, though, was reassuring. He looked completely different. Utterly contrary to his true nature, he radiated an affluent arrogance no one would suspect was the same person who had terrorized the city.

The National Research Assay Group must have been thrilled with their results. Initially, at least, Marta thought. No wonder they continued their work and pushed forward with another program. Remembering the assassin that had chased them down, and thinking they had others just like him after them, was terrifying. She gripped Aaron's arm tighter then spied a delivery truck and its driver a few buildings down.

"Are you going to use that package carrier to get our things?" Marta asked.

"No," Aaron answered, having already dismissed the option. He explained succinctly, "Married, clean-cut, conscientious, professional-not our guy."

They made their way to an open-air market, near the beach, frequented by tourists. At the far end was a large crowded warehouse where most of the locals were doing their own shopping and eating. Marta's stomach rumbled. Aaron looked back at her with an apologetic smile. "I'm an awful lover; no breakfast in bed the morning after."

"I am starving, especially after all the physical exertion," she replied with a laugh, blushing prettily. "But I definitely wouldn't say you were an awful lover."

If he hadn't felt so guilty for her hunger, Aaron would indulge in his own appetite-of a more carnal nature. Instead, he lead her to the cleanest food stall and ordered them a protein-rich noodle dish. He wolfed his down then instructed Marta to stay as she finished her meal. "I'll be back within fifteen."

He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek but whispered, "There's a gun in your purse, if you need it. I'll bring you something to change into. If anything goes wrong, run with the crowd and stay in the middle of the pack."

She nodded silently in response as he stood, her throat too tight to speak, as she imagined seeing the Asian super-agent lurking among the stalls. Aaron observed her fear and longed to comfort her but had to settle for a chaste kiss and a quick stroke of her jaw as he tipped her up by the chin. He left her behind, knowing the faster he could take care of business, the sooner he could be back with her.

Marta had lost her appetite but forced herself to eat, knowing she needed the nourishment, as she nervously waited for his return. Almost fifteen minutes later she saw Aaron making his way through with a large, old backpack. He approached and pulled her to her feet, taking her by the hand to follow him.

"There's a small warehouse office inside the third dock at the rear of this building. It's been cleared out. We have five minutes to change there," he explained quietly, picking up their pace. He steered her towards a small shipping bay and tested a door at the back wall. It opened into tiny, crammed office where he dropped the pack and immediately began stripping after closing the door behind them. Down to his boxers in seconds, he pulled out second-hand clothing from the bag and thrust some articles into Marta's hands.

She glanced at the rags and was relieved to find there was no tube top. There was a skimpy top with an open back that tied at the neck but she recognized the style as common to the hostel youths. She shuffled out of her linen pants and pulled on ratty jean shorts that were too baggy. She rolled the waist down, over her hips, so they were more secure. The look was indeed granola-hippy. A pair of flip-flops were dropped at her feet and she slid into them, looking over to find Aaron eying her bare mid-driff as he changed.

Marta pulled the silk shirt off and sighed as she held up the olive-green halter top. "I can't wear a bra with this," she complained.

Aaron finished looping a belt through worn khaki's to give her his full attention and gave her a shit-eating grin. "So take yours off."

She rolled her eyes and turned around, hiding a smile. A protest froze in Aaron's larynx as the sound of a truck rumbling up to the dock stopped him. He swore and quickly shoved their fancy clothes and shoes into the backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

Marta pulled the top down over her head and adjusted it, lifting the ends to tie them behind her neck. It fit just right; she wasn't spilling out of it and it held her chest fairly well, despite the lack of support. Aaron removed his watch as he looked her over, frowning. His eyes moved behind her to a desk. He made his way over, wrenched it open and rifled through it until he found what he was looking for.

"Braid your hair," he instructed, handing her a couple rubber bands. She complied, figuring if it looked messy in her haste, it would work better for their purpose anyways. She quickly plaited her hair in two hasty braids reaching her shoulders and secured them with the rubber bands and she came up behind Aaron as he craned his neck around the door frame, checking for movement. There was none, but the sound of the truck beeping as it backed up against the dock warned that they had less than a minute to clear out.

Aaron left his gun where it was, sensing no immediate threat, and grabbed Marta's hand instead. He crouched low and pulled her along behind him as he led the way out, avoiding the line of sight the truck's mirrors would allow the driver. When relatively safe in the busy market square, Aaron glanced back at Marta. Her diamond earrings stood out. He lifted a finger to his lobe and she got the hint, removing the studs quickly and casually replacing them with her original silver earrings from her purse. Then she realized her handbag was all wrong, so she handed it to Aaron who nodded and put it into the pack then shrugged it over his shoulders and snapped it over his chest like a proper world traveling back-packer.

At one point, a rowdy group of college frat boys passed them and one whistled leeringly, staring at Marta. Barely glancing at her companion, the young man sidled up to Marta, his eyes focused on her chest.

"Well, hello," he laughed in accented English that sounded Scandinavian to Marta. He leered crudely. "I think you should ditch your loser hippy boyfriend and come have some fun with us."

Marta froze in fear, not of the obnoxious pig, but of Aaron's reaction. Her wide green eyes flickered to him as he slowly turned towards the boy, tension rolling in waves over his rippling muscles. This is bad, she thought, and knew she had to do something before Aaron did something that would attract attention.

While a few of the young men were lewdly laughing along with him, a couple were decent enough to tell their friend to knock it off and grabbed his arm to pull him away. Another was watching Aaron nervously and implored, "Come on, let's just go."

"No," the guy shook off their hands. "She wants to come. Let's bring her." He rose his hand in her direction, and Aaron's hand whipped out and grabbed it, bending the fingers backwards before he could touch her.

The student yelped in pain and an audible pop could be heard as Aaron forced him to his knees. His friends were too shocked to try to rescue their buddy as he whimpered on the ground. Aaron growled menacingly into his ear in a thick German accent "Touch her and I'll break every one of your fingers. Don't you ever speak to a woman like that again. Apologize!"

When the young man didn't immediately follow Aaron's demand, he shoved him forward, bending the digits even farther until another sickening crunch sounded and the boy fell at her feet. Tears rolled down his face as he apologized profusely, sputtering. Recovering from her shock, Marta realized a crowd had gathered and spun Aaron around just in time to miss being caught front and center on someone's cell phone camera.

"Crazy Nazi!" one of the frat boys hollered at Aaron as Marta dragged him away quickly pushing through the ensuing chaos. She glanced behind her and saw the young man on his knees clutching his hand, its middle finger bent back grotesquely in two places-once at the base and again at the first knuckle. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and felt herself being pulled along by Aaron as he took over their escape.

They walked quickly to a busy main street, Aaron leading the way. He gauged the speed of an old bus heading north. "Come on," he said as it passed them. He ran forward and hopped on, holding his hand out to Marta as she caught up and grabbed it. He swung her on-board, put a bill into the fare slot and they stood in the overcrowded aisle. She looked behind, worried there would be someone in pursuit after the market altercation, but the coast looked clear. She looked up at Aaron who returned her gaze with a dark look.

"That's going to attract some attention," he stated.

"The German accent was smart," she reasoned, hopeful.

"It won't throw them for long-not in this digital age," he shook his head. He craned his neck to read an old man's watch. Their window of time in Manila was reduced from a day or two to just a couple of hours, at best. "It won't be long now."