EXILIUM REX

Chapter 2

The driver’s wristwatch alarm is set at twelve o’clock with real-time advance of thirty stealth minutes. Given the minimal audio activity being relayed by the earpiece since seven this morning, the special agent in his early forties decided to carefully set his strong spine to the caressing shape of the car seat’s upholstered cushion. After all, from this pre-assigned vantage point of the public archives’ main concourse, target is still completely within the grids of the radar and still perfectly within his superior’s loop.

“Arnaiz, this is Jaworski, Arnaiz, please come in.” Static.

The familiar stern voice jolted him back to yellow alertness and he immediately turned the hook-on miniature microphone to reply.

“Arnaiz here.”

“Two-zero?” Intermittent static.

The driver calmly focused his eyes to check the main entrance of the building he had been watching since six this morning.

“Ball is still in play…”

A moment of verification.

“Roger, Arnaiz, referee called time out…” Increased static.

“Ten-nine, Jawo?”

“Referee called time out. Return to bench A-S-A-P. New play! New play!”

As the subservient driver shifted the gear stick, the same but sterner voice blurted out its final instruction, “And, Arnaiz, bring the ball back with you!”

“Ten-four,” was the ever so cold reply.

The agent took out the earpiece along with the hook-on mic and threw it towards the passenger side seat, then instinctively stretched his right hand to pull down the dashboard knob and reached for the glock – still witlessly there, waiting. Within dayspreading minutes, he rehearsed again and again in his dedicated mind how the heavily tinted sedan shall be negotiating through metropolitan traffic back to headquarters with an extra load named Engineer Dino Martinez inside its trunk.

*

The man standing a shoulder’s length away from Mr. Apostol is in his early to mid-fifties, but there is a strange sort youthfulness on how he smiles at his guest. As if a burden of gloom has been cast out from his face by some sudden realization that he, at last, has finally found what he is waiting for. For whatever reason, however, the two exchange furtive silences; likened more to a predator being so close to its prey and, so, would not do anything to scare off the poor soul. Clearly two, three inches taller than Mr. Apostol, the yet unnamed host has carried himself with the certain demeanor of being a man of high position in society, like an ambassador or a diplomat. And, well, Mr. Apostol, presumably being a person of common ancestry and who has managed to render his common services to the government, Mr. Apostol would certainly feel awkward to be sent to an errand with someone, as he might say to himself, not of his kind.

Inang Maya promptly retreats to the kitchen with dignified haste to pour some coffee for the two, and when she returns to them minutes later a conversation has already been engaged somehow, which sounds rather shallow and abysmally non-directional. Both parties appear to thrive either on no pleasantries or no customary introductions at all. Only a peculiar fixation for purpose and singlemindedness.

Like a wolf to a deer.

Gently serving a silver tray on the labyrinth of a working table of her erstwhile master and with her heaving breath promptly held, the old mistress quickly moves back toward the exit. She quietly feels that every pulse of hushness ticking within the curiously unpartitioned room is invariably meant for her. A residual effect of what is or is not to be conveyed within the moment.

“Thank you po, Inang. And please close the door behind you.”

Click.

Post hoc, ergo propter hoc. Since event Y followed event X, event Y must have been caused by event X.

*

In an obvious attempt to change the subject matter of this current assignation, the yet anonymous senior citizen rhetorically starts.

“And how’s Engineer Martinez nowadays? He should be retiring from the service soon, I hope. What I want to say is, well… You know what I like to mean. Mr. Apostol, please…”

Mr. Apostol pauses to think – Was he insinuating Chief Martinez does not deserve the position he is in now? Or, Chief Martinez has already reached the age of optional retirement and may want to seriously think about using that option now? Not that public office as a public trust is one of the favorite clichés of the Gin-gineer…

A dark image of an open left palm offering a close by sofa seat perfectly arranged on the carpeted side of the room suddenly beckons the government messenger.

Without directly observing where the voice has emanated, Mr. Apostol proceeds to walk over half a span of the carpet in careful grant of the semi-verbal request.

“But again!” The harried face of a man, now looking probably more in his late sixties than in his fifties, instantly props forward from the shadows to accompany the speech now. “Please, I am such a poor host! I will just be a minute! You wouldn’t mind at all, would you, dear boy?”

Growing familiar to the lighting and general ambiance, Mr. Apostol collects his five n***d senses and tamely nods in response. A blur races past him as he is still seated on the sofa. By now, he is almost sure he saw this nameless personage before. But from where? And how?

The cabinet-type airconditioner emits a low snoring sound along with its cold freezing breath. Its compressor is symptomatically suffering from a defective thermostat. By now, Mr. Apostol feels like his brains are being meticulously picked and scanned and turned over and over with a perfect pair of sterilized forceps.

Click.

The poor door closes again and immediately the young public errand listens to a muffled woman’s voice in seemingly hyper-argument with the strange host. Almost stranger is the reason why he had to be plucked out by the Chief for this unorthodox order.

He more or less broods over the sudden change of character of his supervisor, Engineer Dino Martinez. The vain professional is a qualified tightfist and public service menace! – Mr. Apostol exclaims to himself. Mostly, he has to haggle his boss for a few hours to offset on account of the multiple “favors” he curries for him. And, all this time, Engineer Martinez would be reminding him that his tardiness and absenteeism are fast bordering on being re-defined as a habit. A habit that needs action; specifically, the disciplinary kind.

But this one is different. Very. The engineer even bade him safe travel after loading him with three hundred pesos as allowance kuno. Mr. Apostol’s face draws a weary smile behind his stupor, then shakes his head. He reaches for the left pocket of his navy blue slacks and unholsters a usb thumb drive he was instructed to deliver.

“Never even bothered to identify himself, all I have is the address. Once that senile

returns, I’ll ditch this to him and I’ll be back to my…”

Perhaps realizing something else, Mr. Apostol quickly takes out his smartphone and starts to check his calls and messages.

Still nary a call nor a message from the two. From either Engineer Martinez and his co-worker/province mate. A certain Angelo del Mundo.

Mr. Apostol sighs and closes his eyes by instinct.

Click.