between sunset and sunrise, but there was more. That evening at the lake, he hadn’t yet met Lorna Valencia or seen her spotless floors in the little cottage at the edge of the jungle. He hadn’t looked at Marivic’s picture, carefully preserved under a coat of varnish. He hadn’t been to San Felipe.
He said, “How are you feeling, Al? Tired?”
“No,” Mendonza said. ”I’m feeling all right.”
“Good,” Favor said. “Then let’s get to work. I want to bring that girl home.”
Moments before he disappeared into the back of the taxi, the American named Raymond seemed to scan the faces of the crowd around him. He was looking for Lorna. He had something important to tell her. As soon as he found her, he leaned toward her and said quietly but firmly, “Don’t forget, like we talked about, call your son and have him contact me or Alex.”
“So that your friends in Manila can look after him.”
“I also want him to stay clear of Optimo. Be sure you tell him that.”
“You believe there is danger?” she said.
She was watching his face when he answered. She noticed the slightest catch in his voice, an almost imperceptible hesitation before he spoke.
“There’s no reason for him to be involved. That’s why we’re here,” Favor said.
“I will tell him,” Lorna said, and Favor nodded as he ducked into the car.
Something about Favor unsettled her. Under any other circumstances, she would fear him. Yet, as she watched the car drive away with him looking over his shoulder as he departed, she knew that he wished her well and that his advice was not to be disregarded.
She took out her phone and called her son.
Ten
When he left the last jeepney, Ronnie walked half a block up Amorsolo Street to the address where Optimo was supposed to be. He expected an office building. He found, instead, a gaudy nightclub, warehouse sized, with a three-story facade of dark reflective panels.
He looked up and down the block. Along one side of Amorsolo was a series of small shops and a travel agent and a Jollibee fast-food restaurant. On the other side of the street—the side where Optimo was supposed to be—there was only the nightclub and a residential compound behind a high wall, surely the home of a very rich family. A walkway ran between the side of the nightclub and the barrier wall of the residence.
Ronnie walked two blocks in each direction along Amorsolo Street. He couldn’t find Optimo. He crossed to the other side of the street and again walked two blocks in each direction. No Optimo. His route brought him back to the double front door of the nightclub. The door was closed, locked. The neon sign was dormant, red and orange neon tubes against the shiny copper-toned panels of the facade. The tubes formed the outline of licking flames that surrounded the name of the club: Impierno.
The locked front door was completely unpromising. Optimo couldn’t be here. He wandered along the sidewalk on Amorsolo until he reached the corner of the building. He stopped and stood looking back at it, perplexed.
Nearby, an old woman was selling newspapers and magazines. She sat against the corner of the wall that surrounded the compound, her stock spread out on the sidewalk in front of her. Someone stopped, picked out a newspaper from a stack, handed her a fifty-peso bill. She made change from a cigar box and dropped it into the customer’s waiting hand. Her expression didn’t change. She looked as if she had been sitting there forever.
Ronnie walked over to her, stood over her. She ignored him. Someone picked up a paper and gave her a few coins; she tossed them into the cigar box.
Ronnie said, “Ma’am, excuse me, I’m trying to find Optimo.”
She stared out across the street, face blank.
Ronnie said: “Do you know Optimo?”
She lifted her right arm and made a go-away motion without looking up.
Then Ronnie realized that she was not brushing him off. She was pointing. Her bony fingers were gesturing down the walkway that ran between the residence and the Impierno building. For the first time, he noticed a door in the side of the building.
Ronnie went up the walkway, to the door. It was easy to miss, set flush into the side of the building. A discreet placard on the door read:
Impierno Talent Management
Optimo Employment Agency
He was standing at the door when his phone chirped. He checked the screen and saw his mother’s number. Reflexively his thumb went to the TALK button…
… and