Angel of the Lord Novel by Jose Roxas Leveriza Part 25
PLEASE SCROLL DOWN FOR THE PREVIOUS EPISODES.
WHEN YOU REACH THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE MAKE SURE TO CLICK OLDER POSTS.
Up ahead at the busy crossing of Quirino with Taft Avenue, exasperated commuters poured out in droves from the elevated platforms of the rail system. They streamed out in a flood to swamp and swirl around the jammed vehicles caught under the stations. The traffic could only knot tighter because of the invasion that spilled into every inch of open space between the car bumpers and the curbs. Shuffling feet danced their helter-skelter steps on the sidewalks egged on by the shoulder to shoulder plastering into a formless mob.
The traffic light was a contraption ignored by all. Red to green grew irrelevant like wasted cycles failing to connect with reality. The intersection rang true to its meaning as all manner of locomotion converged on a middle ground from opposing directions then locked with no inch or quarter to spare. The lanes of the avenue winding under the shadow of the ribbed overpass grew darker ominously with the sea of bobbing humanity overtaking the stalled procession on wheels.
The vendors hawked their wares with urgency and delighted abandon. The cigarette sellers and the bottled water merchants celebrated with the sell-out bonanza. Even the peanuts, chips, and candy mints hanging on erect walking racks got torn off in a hurry. The clustering around mobile hamburger stands and fish ball carts grew three deep. Only the roofs of the idling jeepneys and buses were spared in the mad rush to find an alternative means of transportation.
The racing group from Malacanang Palace drew up to the gridlock. The throttling was ear splitting as the police sirens of the President’s crew blended hoarsely with the spasmodic horn blaring from the furious drivers. “Yeah, why don’t you guys levitate and take off vertically like British Harrier jets over our heads, goof offs!” Tempers flared and nobody stood blameless in the face of the catcalling. “Turn to the sides and park in diagonal order.” The Commander of the mounted troop tried to impose his tall black boots with blue helmeted authority figure to sort out the loggerhead. “Or else what, you’ll bring your tow truck to tow us away?” That retort stumped him in his tracks.
It seemed stopping the train backfired on President Harry Sey. The safety of the passengers plus his overriding concern for Ellebana’s plight dictated it so he felt no regret about his order. Getting to the bottom of the mystery of Ellebana engaging in a shootout under the rails on a busy afternoon with strange characters rankled more in his mind than the impulse to restore peace and order as the Chief Executive of the land. He squirmed impatiently in the clutch of the thick Captain’s bucket seat and tucked away his sidearm under his mussed native Barong shirt which bore the emblem of the Presidency on the front lapel.
“No way can we get through that unless we can ride stunts like Evel Knievel over the cars.” The harried President turned to Ben, his driver, but mumbled more to himself.“Harry no, please don’t open that window!” Ben had been his driver since his college days and the first name basis settled in the closeness of growing and advancing in years together and remained undisturbed by Harry’s election to the highest position in the country. The President ignored Ben’s warning and rolled down the glass only to catch three security aides from the van behind block his view to shield him with cocked Glock sub machine guns at the ready.
“Put away your cannons, these people will be intimidated unnecessarily. They are not a lynch mob out to get me, C’mon!” The Rambos balked and hesitated to comply immediately. “That’s an order!” The popular President stepped out of the Suburban and unsmilingly nodded to the watchers in the sidelines. Three more close in guards came running forward armed to the teeth with an armory of long weapons. One fussed all over the President and fitted him with the bullet proof vest. “Stow the heavy artillery and revert to your sidearm!” The detachment leader executed flawlessly in line with the head honcho’s instruction.
The crowd surged around the stuck entourage. “It’s the President and he brought his yellow army with him, look!” The outer reaches of the protective circle around the President were manned by Kevlar helmeted Presidential battalion infantrymen. The close in layer was all made up of Chinese looking fighters and carried on like safari jacketed black ninjas. Their boss in fact came across like a heroic Jackie Chan and his cohorts behaved like ashen faced Jet Li’s who exuded Kung Fu deadliness with their martial arts movements.
The official wagon train drawn in Spartan formation like the unyielding hub of General Custer’s last stand throbbed with dazzling blue strobe lights. The sirens were muzzled into mute silence and only the epileptic pin lights kept up the glow of officialdom. The steel belted black Chevy truck with the number one plate of the highest official sat like a center yolk surrounded by a defense perimeter. “There must be a coup in the offing, where is the enemy?” The rabble craned their necks as they waved half wittedly to their leader. “I can hear the rumble of tanks from the seaside boulevard!” One tried to heighten the drama with his imagination. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. The closest army camp is via the highway from the north.” Another political pundit amongst the crowd made his salient point.
Ellebana Sey felt like a wide receiver who got tackled mercilessly by Jason Burke. She felt her bones creak as she strove to stretch upright and dust off her crumpled blue pinstriped blazer. Her flowing silky black tresses fluttered with the wind to smother her face randomly. Her chink eyes blazed with emotion and became more unnerving in their loveliness. She flicked open her pistol’s chamber and replaced the clip. “Is that piece licensed Prosecutor?” The first cop on the spot joked and holstered his weapon while he inspected Ellebana all over for stains of blood. Finding none he mouthed off to the radio to report back to the precinct around the corner at United Nations Ave.
“There is a shooting going on!” A fat woman crowed beyond the cordon of policemen. “That’s finished, didn’t we all hear that earlier, lady, and your reaction is retarded!” A man tried to douse cold water on her belated exuberance. “No, I meant it’s all a movie shoot, look there’s the star,” and pointed to Ellebana Sey. Angel Locsin is so much prettier in person than her pictures!” she gushed almost out of breath from the thrill of seeing an actual celluloid celebrity although a mistaken identity. The man then turned open mouthed with the snap of recognition to eye Ellebana Sey with an admiring countenance mixed with pained uncertainty.
The light exchange contrasted sharply with the specter of a bullet riddled gleaming new auto only a short distance away. There a nervous throng cringed at the gory sight like buzzards not knowing what to do next. The corpses lying strewn and lifeless upon the immediate scene drew a gawking troupe who strained to watch each other for unsympathetic pilferers who might cart away the unguarded possessions that remain uselessly in the pockets of the inutile cadavers. The beat cops arrived at the scene of the crime and shooed away the curious. They helped out the hysterical young man from the back of the sedan and pinned his arms to his body as he shook and raged with savage twitching.
A wailing police cruiser with blinking lights rolled on top of the sidewalk chasing off the people gathered there. It skirted the blocked right lane and wedged to a stop right in front of the hospital gate. Four doors flew open and disgorged thick bodied lawmen with officer bars on their uniforms. The beat cops saluted their precinct commander at the head. He trudged directly towards the lady attorney who at that exact moment got buried in the wake of a medical team that descended from the driveway.
“I’m Dr. Paraiso, call me Steve, I’m the resident on duty. Do you feel pain anywhere, Ma’m?” The bespectacled swarthy faced with curly hair general practitioner automatically held Ellebana’s wrist to check her pulse rate. Dr. Paraiso pried wider the opening by her neckline to unhinge the top button revealing puritan skin and probed with the nose of his stethoscope. “Better check the insides of her clothing for signs of a wound Doctor, “the regal Pershing cap of the Police Captain pressed closer for an assessment. “I have to report to your Uncle that you are unscratched or else I could lose my job with this incident happening during my watch 100 odd yards from my office.” The handsome Capt. Vince Singson beamed his most becoming smile at the unfocused patient.
“Move that crowd back. Establish your Police line!” The Captain barked at his men and flexed his command to impress Ellebana with his born to rule stance. The Doctor continued to frisk Ellebana’s blouse and skirt for any sign of a bullet scratch. “I didn’t get hit Cap,” Ellebana recognized the police Officer from several hearings past. “What were you doing chasing bad men, leave that to us cops.” The area commander didn’t really expect an answer. It could be the weirdest long story what with a gun toting American Preacher still running the pursuit. But he needed a backgrounder to key his men to intercept Bader out there somewhere. So he pressed on with, “Who shot at you, Counselor?”
Dr. Paraiso beckoned to the nurses at the fringe to tend to Ellebana. “We have to bring her in for a closer examination; you can come in with us to get answers along the way, Captain.” The medical squad surrounded Ellebana and ushered her gingerly towards the emergency landing. “I’m quite alright. I have to go to the room on the ninth floor to check on Mike’s family. Are they alright?” The Department of Justice female fiscal made a move to detour towards the main entrance. :”A guard got shot at the stairway. I’m afraid he expired, that’s all I know Ma’m,” the nurse on her right pulled her back on a course to the left.
We have to pass you through the trauma routine check up. We can call the ninth floor from the emergency section.” Dr. Paraiso sounded persuasive so Ellebana decided to meekly comply. “I can’t help you with the gunman’s identity.” She looked back at the Police Officer who was now talking on the radio with a crestfallen face. It was then that the team bearing the stretchers filled with the dead bodies of Abe and his son came running past them. The whole group froze with the sight of blood dripping dots in a long trail as they swept past like a funeral cortege. A young man convulsed with grief and howling on his cellular dogged the likely pall bearers closely behind.
“Shu fu, Ellebana’s fine, the doctors are attending to her now. She’s not wounded or anything.” A familiar voice sputtered over the President’s private cell phone. “Wheeze, I’m relieved to know that for sure. Thanks Chris.” Harry shot back. The President knew how much underground Intel his young nephew was capable of dishing out ever since the campaign. That young man definitely had his ear to the ground at anytime and anywhere.The mall tycoon, his own father didn’t grow rich in gigantic strides being the last to know in such a political minefield as the Philippines. “Err, Chris what’s this shootout all about?” President Harry Sey dared to know and took a chance that his reliable family sleuth, Chris Chu may have a scoop. “And what’s this business with a firearm for Ellebana of all people?”
“I haven’t verified it but there’s talk in the grapevine that she’s an undercover agent for the Kuomintang.” The reply came back laconically for what it was worth in many tiered ramifications for the political health and leanings of the first Philippine President of Chinese descent, one generation removed. The same goes for the indefatigable Jason Burke embattled up in some remote skyway.
The Promise - Philippines Filipino Tagalog DVD Movie Starring Angel Locsin
.
