Seventy-Two Hours in Ormoc City

Episode Twelve - Before the Dawn

‘I’m so sorry, Verity. I should not have exposed you to that. I'll never look your dad in the eye again.’ Don told her, regretting every second she had been in ‘the belly of the beast’.

‘You never could anyway. You’re about a foot taller than him.’ Verity quipped as she finished heaving out the contents of her stomach. ‘Got a mint?’

‘Who has mints in the Philippines?’ Don asked her.

‘Elderly white people whose breath smells like something laid down and died in there.’ Verity quipped back.

‘Okay, you got me.’ Don handed her a mint sweet from a packet in his pocket. ‘But I’ll have you know that my halitosis smells like the finest Scottish heather.’

Verity shook her head in disbelief. ‘Lorenzo’s?’ she asked him.

‘Lorenzo’s.’ he confirmed.

They sat in the Italian cafe with Rohelio, keeping an eye on their vehicles out of the corner of their eyes, while debriefing themselves – and not the kind that would get Shiloh excited.

Verity sipped on a glass of iced tea, which did not taste so good after a mint. ‘That guy is pond scum. No, he’s lower than that. I had no idea queer people could be that misogynistic.’

‘You’ve obviously never tried to arrest anyone during “Pride”.’ Don commented dryly. ‘Okay, what do we have? Audio of Valdez behaving like a complete.... one of them.’

‘Try video.’ Rohelio grinned, like a cat with a whole cow of cream.

‘How?’ Don asked him.

‘They have CCTV cameras in the lobby and the ballroom to cover staff if they’re ever accused of anything. Amazing what a little hint at aiding and abetting charges can make a hotel manager do.’ Rohelio told them.

‘So I needn’t have stood outside the ballroom like an alley creep?’ Don asked, offended that his contribution, which had caused him some muscle stiffness that he wouldn’t like to mention, had apparently been for nothing.

‘The video has no audio. It should help though.’ Rohelio informed them.

‘We also have the date, place and time of the meeting with all the other misogynist clowns.’ Verity told them, triumphantly producing the card she had endured so much, and lost her breakfast and lunch, to obtain. ‘It’s at the Bellavista Event Centre at five-thirty tomorrow. Bellavista Event Centre? Where’s that?’ she asked them.

Don whistled. ‘No expense spared there, eh? Someone’s out to impress. Or compensating for something. It's a very upmarket couple of buildings on the Isabel road, just after Barangay Tolingon.’

‘So, not that far from where I’m staying.’ Verity mused.

Don nodded. ‘A little further down the road, on the way to Isabel. Interesting that he wants this business done out of the way. That’s not exactly at the centre of town. Maybe some of his buyers are a little bit jumpy...’

‘What else do we have?’ Verity asked them.

The others all stared at her blankly.

‘Come on! We need all we can get ‘ Verity told them.

‘How does a CIA plot to murder Valdez sound?’ Don asked her.

‘That’s more like... no, hold on... what?!?!’ Verity uttered in complete disbelief.

‘A Russian former Wagner member has turned up in Cebu. He has an American diplomatic passport, which tells me he’s going to do something very dodgy. His wife was rescued by Polish police from a brothel in Krakow owned by Valdez, which means, if you put two and together...’