Chapter 24: On Mission
Aaron walked Marta out the garage of the building and pointed at an alleyway opposite their location. "I'll be there with the van running by the time you reach the morgue. Lock-up is in five, so you're on. My eyes will be on you the whole time and I can reach you in less than ten seconds if anything goes wrong. The back of the van is locked and inaccessible, so jump in the passenger seat if I have to drive up. Otherwise, stick to the plan and just walk back here when you've got the program medication."
"I know," Marta said, glancing nervously down the road. The story they had concocted meant she had to do this alone. She wished Aaron could take the lead in this.
"You don't have to do this," her told her. "We can run and stay under the radar. We don't have to fight this out."
"Yes we do," she replied gravely. "You said it yourself up there. We can't let the National Research Assay Group win. We take them down-or die trying."
"Don't say that. I won't let that happen," Aaron assured her, his hand rising to clasp the back of her neck. His thumb stroked the soft patch of skin where the curve of her jaw met the column of her neck. Time was slipping away. "I don't know how you talked me into this plan of yours."
"I'm rather regretting it myself," she replied. Marta felt a quick squeeze of his hand, then he released her.
Aaron nodded towards the morgue. "Okay; off with you," he said, with conviction, and a little smack to her behind. "Go get your precious evidence then."
Marta walked out of the garage, onto the sidewalk, where she took a quick glance back at him. Aaron gave her a little encouraging smile then transformed into a focused soldier on mission. Bolstered by the determination he exuded, she made her way down the street.
Aaron turned and walked quickly to the parked van he had readied the evening before. He wrenched the driver's door open then took a quick step back, covering the bottom half of his face with his forearm. The smell of the bodies in the back of the vehicle wasn't unbearable, but it was more than he expected after only one night. The back of the van was sealed from the cab, fortunately, but there was no hiding its contents from Martha with the stench. Too late to do anything about that now, he thought, and hopped in. He rolled down the windows and turned the engine over so he could start the fan on full blow.
Aaron pulled out of the garage and looked right to see Marta walking towards the morgue. He was gratified to see she did not turn around, as instructed, when she heard the van drive out. He drove around the block and turned down the alley, weaving through large metal bins of garbage and haphazard set-ups of the homeless. He slowed to a stop at the end where he could watch the exchange and be ready to intervene, if Marta ran into trouble.
Halfway down the road, Marta took a deep breath, gripped the straps of her back-pack and forced herself forward towards the old government building. Any future she and Aaron could have depended on her getting the program medication. A drop of sweat ran down her spine and gave her a chill, despite the sultry Manila dusk. The sun was setting and the street lights had turned on. The door of the morgue swung open as she neared. A short old man walked out and passed right by, hardly noticing her at all.
A trendy young woman with spiked hair soon followed. Marta recognized her instantly from Aaron's description. She had her back to the street as she fumbled with the lock on the morgue door. This was their girl.
Martha climbed the few steps up the entrance to where the young woman was hunched over and swearing as she yanked the wrong key out of the lock. She startled and dropped the keys when she finally noticed Marta steps away.
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to frighten you," Marta said, her palms lifted in a gesture to show she was harmless. She knelt down to retrieve the ring of keys, then held them out to the young woman. "Do you speak English?"
The girl eyed her wearily but leaned forward and took the keys. "I speak little bit English. What you want? I no have money for you."
Aaron had told her the contact would most likely be able to speak at least some English, as the government-run morgue employed only university educated workers. The European and fresh-out-of-college look had supported the assumption. Still, Marta was very relieved to hear it, however broken the grammar. "No, no-I don't want money. Just information on someone that might be here..." she let her voice trail off as she looked up at the morgue.
The young woman followed Marta's gaze to the building then stated, "It closed. You come back tomorrow." She turned back to the door with the correct key to lock up for the night.
"Please," Marta begged. She looked desperate and anxious-feelings she didn't have to fake. "Please. I'm in a foreign country and my boyfriend disappeared three days ago. I can't find him anywhere. I just know something terrible happened to him."
The girl looked back at her, studying her with curiosity. "You think he dead?"
Marta's eyes filled and she nodded her head, her expression full of anguish.
The young woman's voice was softer as she repeated, "You come back tomorrow. We help you then."
Marta shook her head and let her fear show in her face as she pleaded, "I can't. We don't have papers. We shouldn't even be in this country. If he's not here, I'll just get him in trouble and myself detained. I just need to know if an Asian man, about my age, this tall...," she lifted her hand to about the height she guessed the super-agent was. "...short, dark hair. Handsome." Marta let her voice crack with emotion at that.
The morgue worker glanced around the sides of the building and down the empty street. Marta's hope soared when she saw the hesitation. She asked for too much first, as Aaron suggested. "Please, can I just look to see if he's in there?"
"No! I lose my job. No," she replied, shaking her head vigorously. She turned back to the door.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry-I don't want to get you in trouble. I don't need to see if his body is in there."
The young woman paused in fitting the key to the lock-a good sign. "Can you just tell me if a young man was brought in about three days ago?" Marta pleaded. The girl turned and met her gaze with a cautious, but contemplative, look.
Marta pushed on with her rehearsed questioning, "He wouldn't have had any identification on him. It might have been overdose. Or, maybe, it was a motorcycle accident...?"
Recognition showed in the girl's expression and she was about to respond, but a scooter was heard driving too fast up to the front of the morgue. Both Marta and the young woman turned towards the sound to see a moped stop suddenly in front of them. Marta's heart raced at the unexpected interruption.
A flashy young man in a white leather jacket and big, dark shades chattered in Filipino at the girl. She responded, obviously explaining the situation to him, an arm extended towards Marta. He looked her up and down then responded negatively-Marta understood that much, at least-and gestured for the young woman to join him on the bike.
Aaron watched from the van, leaning forward subconsciously with his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He knew the rider was the girl's boyfriend and no threat, but the mission objective was in obvious danger. Focused on the deteriorating situation at the morgue, he almost missed the sound of a car pulling into the alley behind him. He checked the mirrors and saw a police officer get out of a cruiser to question one of the homeless.
S**t!, he thought, knowing he couldn't drive off yet. It was down to these crucial seconds for Marta to succeed in getting the program medication or not. Him driving off would undoubtedly distract her and they would lose their one shot. But staying in the alley with the van running would definitely attract the attention of the police obviously making their rounds through the neighborhood.
Another officer joined his partner as the homeless man's responses got louder. Aaron watched the two policemen, with foreboding, from his side mirror while keeping an eye on Marta. He felt his body tense in readiness as the second officer glanced over and did a double-take. A white man in a work van with Filipino lettering idling in a back alley certainly caught the capable policeman's attention. The officer spoke a few quick words to his partner and began walking towards the van.
Aaron checked on Marta's progress and saw she had just pulled out the little baggie of cocaine and was holding it out for the couple to see. It was not a discreet offer. Not good. He couldn't drive out with the police in tow just as Marta was flashing drugs about in a last ditch effort to secure the meds.
The policeman neared the vehicle and Aaron was forced to act. He grabbed his gun, despite an acute reluctance to use it, and shoved it in his waistband at his back and opened the door. He stepped out as the officer started shouting at him to stay in the car. He walked forward, acting confused, with his hands in the air. The policeman drew his gun as Aaron came near. His partner noticed the commotion and started walking forward to assist.
In a flash of movement, Aaron lunged and swept the gun from the officer's grasp with his left then struck his neck with his right. It wasn't the normal death-blow Aaron was trained to use, but it incapacitated the man who fell to the ground gasping for air. Shocked, his partner stood frozen as Aaron spun in fluid forward-motion and pulled his weapon from behind him and aimed it at the policeman. Too late, the officer reacted and went for his pistol. He hadn't even gotten it out of its holster before Aaron rushed forward and brought the butt of his gun onto the man's skull. The policeman dropped, unconscious, to the cement as the crackle of a radio sounded.
The other officer was barely able to croak out the Filipino term for, "assistance" into his shoulder mic before Aaron clocked him over the head. He swung his gun around to the wide-eyed homeless man peering around a heap of trash. The bum stared at the deadly blue-eyed blond with a swaying gaze, as Aaron fought his instinct to pull the trigger. After a moment passed, the inebriated homeless man broke out in a toothless grin and gave him a thumbs up. Aaron relaxed slightly and lowered his weapon.
The bum chuckled a wheezing laugh, shaking is head and his raised thumb in delirious mirth. One side of Aaron's mouth lifted in acknowledgment. He walked back to the van, stepping over the policemen as the radio sounded. More police were on the way and Aaron knew anyone else listening in to the broadcast would be, too. Not taking out the patrol with an instant kill shot would have dire consequences.
Aaron fought feeling regret at his restraint. What kind of monster regrets not killing men who daily put their lives on the line for others? But, when the price was the probability of losing his future with Marta, it was difficult not to wish he had done otherwise. He had no doubt one of NRAG's super-agents would be on their trail in hours, if not minutes. Even worse, from the location of the incident, Eric Byer would surmise what they were after and realize their plan. They just lost any small advantage they had.