CHAPTER ONE
It was a dark night in Balibago. A cloud of doom hovered over the Philippine neighborhood like a bloodthirsty predator awaiting its next victim. Just when it seemed that the poverty- stricken community was about to recover from the eruptions of Mount Pinatubo and the Americans leaving Clark Air Base, disaster had struck in another form. A bizarre murder had been committed, severely damaging their tourist industry.
As Curtis Crook rode along Perimeter Road, it seemed to him that the sidewalk in front of the long row of night clubs and bars was not as crowded as usual. One o'clock in the morning should have been a busy time, but there appeared to be an abnormal shortage of customers. Curtis Crook had just arrived from Tokyo and was still wearing his tie and jacket. Having come from a place where it was quite cold during February, he thought the temperature was just right. His two Philippino companions, however, were not accustomed to the cool night air and were shivering. Bing drove the motor bike with sidecar, called a trike, with his head lowered into the wind. Lordie sat sidesaddle behind him with her head tucked into his back trying to get warm.
It entered Crook's mind that riding a trike could be hazardous to one's health, since there was not much protection in case of a collision. Bing, however, had proven in the few months he had worked for Crook, to be a safe driver. So Crook thought perhaps he should not be too concerned. Bing would not normally drive so fast, but it was important that they reach the Sultan Inn as soon as possible in order to plan their strategy for the next day.
After a ten-minute ride, Bing turned left onto Oklahoma Street. Most of the streets in that area were named after American states due to their proximity to Clark Air Base, which the Americans had relinquished to the Philippine Air Force. They immediately approached the Sultan Inn's security gate with a guardhouse. A sign warned that trikes were not allowed beyond that point. Trikes did not have mufflers and their staccato noise disturbed the sleep of the hotel's guests. A guard stepped out and signaled them to stop. Bing parked to the side, Lordie hopped down, and Crook started to remove his luggage.
The guard said in Tagalog, "Oh, it's you Bing and you have Mister Crook with you. Drive on up to the entrance." He said to Crook in English, "I'm sorry Mister Crook, I didn't know it was you. Go right in."
As they proceeded toward the entrance, Crook noticed several trikes parked at the security gate with their homeless drivers sleeping in the sidecars. Awakened by the commotion, one of the men asked what was happening. Crook overheard one of the drivers say, "Saint Crook has returned."
The Sultan Inn was built like a fortress. The rectangular building was a solid two-story mass of cement, with bars on all the windows. A twelve foot chain link fence surrounded the entire complex and was solidly embedded in concrete. The barbed wire at the top slanted outward. The building reminded Crook of many federal prisons he had seen in the states.
Half of the building had been destroyed by fire during the eruption of Mount Pinatubo in 1991 and had been rebuilt. The Sultan had all the modern conveniences, such as a restaurant, swimming pool, laundry, conference rooms, and a famous botanical garden in one of the courtyards. The outside may have been very drab in appearance, but the inside was a tropical paradise.
At the entrance there was another security guard holding a sawed-off shotgun, with a handgun holstered at his hip. There was only one entrance to the hotel and the door was chained and padlocked shut. "Welcome back, Mister Crook. Glad to see you again," the guard said with a smile.
"It's good to be back, Tug," Crook replied. "How's your father? Still hanging in there?" They had previously discussed his fathers heart condition.
"He's doing great. He watches his diet and exercises now," Tug answered, as he unlocked the padlock and removed the chain. In the lobby, they found the night clerk asleep on a table behind the large circular reception desk. Crook called out, "Wake up, Edwin, and don't give me room 143 again. Nothing works in that room. I want 406."
Edwin slowly stood up and wiped his eyes. When he recognized Crook, he suddenly became wide-awake. "You didn't let us know you were coming, Mister Crook," he stated. "Someone already has number 406. We'll put you in 139 and then move you to 406 as soon as it's vacant. Is that alright?" "I didn't have time to make reservations. 139 is OK for now, but I want 406 as soon as you can."
"Of course, Sir, welcome back to Balibago." Room 139 was one of the hotel's best rooms with two full size beds and a small refrigerator. It opened onto the pool area and cost 550 Philippine pesos per day, or around twenty-two U. S. dollars. Crook thought out loud, "I'm probably stuck with this room until I leave. I stayed in this room before and I'll have to clean and disinfect the toilet myself. It smells like urine. You can't count on the maids to do it." At least this place doesn't have roaches, he thought to himself, and looked around for the pet Gecko that had been there before.
Lordie and Bing both said, "You should see where I live." "Have a seat," Crook said as he dove onto one of the beds. There was a small round table, with two wicker chairs which were taken by his companions. "Sorry I can't offer you a drink. We should have stopped at Michelle's Store and picked up some drinks and snacks on the way. She's open all night."
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