Angel of the Lord Novel by Jose R. Leveriza Part 24

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Angel of the Lord Novel by Jose R. Leveriza Part 24

(For the previous episodes please scroll down to the older posts)

Bader kicked the security guard sprawled on the steps as the latter tried to grapple Bader’s legs. He fired once into the watchman’s chest when the poor bloke tried to draw his pistol as he rolled over like a log. The women shrieked in horror. Pandemonium ensued as everybody fled in all directions.

To discourage would be heroes and troublesome meddlers Bader squeezed off two more warning shots in the air then broke in a hasty run for the gates. Another uniformed security agent came sliding forward from the idled leviathan and fired at Bader from a genuflecting position. Bader ducked instinctively behind the rotating turnstiles.

Bader quickly surfaced and propped his aim on top of the electronic reader. The guard was an easy target out in the open hallway. Two well placed shots from Bader’s Glock pistol downed him backwards to the floor. Bader slid over the pinwheel and rested a bit with his back pressed to the steel gate. He checked if the coast is clear then headed to the right corridor where the front caboose was.

Bader deduced rightly that the electric commuter was immobilized from the darkened lights and the locked doors. He didn’t think he could break into the front cabin to commander the controls and hold hostage the engineer. Stragglers in the crowd caught in the corridor with Bader raised up their hands and cowered in the sides to let him breeze past. A third uniformed security with an ashen face laid his weapon in slow motion to the floor to clearly signal his capitulation to Bader who let him live and waved him to the side with his gun.

With no other way to turn, Bader ran forward to the middle of the tracks in the open air above the buzz of the street below. He bowed his head in fear of the hanging cables. He kept his gaze on steel plates running the length of the tracks marked with a warning in red, “Danger High Voltage.” He launched on a steeplechase cadence and held it unerringly as he plowed forward with urgency to build the biggest distance between him and Jason Burke.

Midway, the usual rubberneck retinue swarmed around Jason Burke and slowed his progress under the cavernous alcove. The bright side was they made Jason Burke a difficult target because of their crisscrossing. The other downside was that they gave away his location and announced his approach with loud rabble rousing.

Jason Burke worried that the unruly groupies dogging his every step would open him up like a sitting duck ready to be waylaid. The upside was the motley crew carried on like a pack of sniffing hounds which could telegraph back in an instant thru their cantankerous frenzy the sighting of elusive prey.

The pesky street urchins clung to Jason Burke like barnacles and tugged at his arm and clothing with star struck agitation. Their giggles and screeching chatter made the otherwise unflappable covert operative squirm and try to wedge his way with outstretched forearms serving as outriggers to clear the path ahead.

The whole coterie gasped in alarm and stepped back momentarily when Jason Burke pulled out his gun to begin his ascent on the sharply angled staircase leading up to the Pedro Gil Station. Like a cheering section egging on a competitor with reassuring catcalls, the bystanders crowed almost in unison,” he’s not up there; your quarry is running on ahead on the empty tracks!”

Jason Burke felt grateful for the unsolicited tip but played it safe and hugged the wall closely with his gun aimed forward leading the foray. He dashed and leaped over the tills in one swift motion while keeping a sharp eye for possible resistance, friendly or hostile. He stayed low according to the de rigueur of training manuals and traveled on nimble feet all along darting closely to the safety of the walls.

The panicked horde scooting nervously the reverse way tipped him off where Bader must be headed. He picked up the loose firearm abandoned by the wasted guard on the floor and tucked it in his waistband. He didn’t really want it because it could be a nuisance when he had to sprint with gusto. But thought he should get it out of the way lest shuffling feet trip over it and trigger a misfire.

Jason Burke ducked forward to the edge of the platform and caught his momentum with his right shoulder flushed against the last pillar that led to the tracks beyond in the open air. He waved back to the train engineer in the canopy of the stalled train who smiled ruefully and watched Jason’s every move while talking on a handheld radio.

A fast diminishing figure in the distance was rushing to make a clean getaway. But where in the world could Bader be headed? Jason Burke thought to follow suit and plunge right in onto the empty tracks in the blistering heat. But first he flipped on his phone and beeped Richard.

“He’s out there in the open Richard hopping like a rabbit over the high voltage rods.”

“Yup, I see him. Buzzard’s fit as a fireman. His legs are not missing a beat.”

“Think he’ll head all the way to the next stop?”

“Why not, he’s chugging along like a real locomotive plus that’s the only place with a convenient descent to street level.”

“I’m going in after him Richard. Keep me posted what gives.”

“Don’t get your ass toasted rookie.”

Jason Burke took off in a repeating rhythm of hops, skips, and jumps as he jogged with unbroken sequence over the railway gaps. The searing heat gave him a scorching welcome aboard. The humidity invaded into his nostrils and ears. The hazy diesel fumes enveloped his hunched form with a cloak of smog.

Lobo Vol 6 Co-Starring RYAN EIGENMANN

The Twenty-third Episode of Angel of the Lord Novel by Jose R. Leveriza II

(For previous episodes please scroll down to older posts)

A swarming crowd warms up to an unruly scene real quickly. It seems easy with their gut instinct to smell who the good guys are in a fluid confrontation. The wary onlookers cringing for cover under the arcs in the bowels of the overhead transit ushered Jason Burke through the labyrinth with cluing waves of their hands. “He went that way!” They chorused with abandon aided by exaggerated body English.

The public utility jeeps plying the outside lanes of the viaduct echoed with cheers from the passengers. The golden haired preacher with marine cut and lanky stature which highlighted his wholesome boyish appeal drew the instant empathy of the spectators. His unobtrusive get-up of ruffled short sleeved white shirt with matching black preppie tie and pants cloaked him with stereotyped hero vestments. The jeepney drivers peppered their horns like trumpets of Jericho to herald Jason Burke as he waltzed towards the fray.

Jason Burke crouched low but kept his line of vision up as he galloped with rapid tiny steps that danced the jig of the Special Forces obstacle course. His alert eyes panned back and forth 180 degrees sizing up the nooks and crevices for any sign of snipers. By reflex he repeatedly pressed on the reassuring feel of his HK 9 mm tucked at the back. The grueling pace dissuaded him from reaching for the smart mobile to flip on to Richard with his eye in the sky. Wouldn’t work deep in this dark tunnel anyway, he thought.












































To get a download of the entire complete version of the Angel of the Lord novel by Jose Roxas Leveriza from start to finish please send a token contribution no matter how small the amount to the Internet Ministry of the God Particle of the Abba Krishna.

You can arrange for the details by sending snail mail to Jose Roxas Leveriza via the following street address:

Unit A405 Bella Villa Condos, No. 5 Hamburg St., Merville Park, Paranaque City, Metro Manila, Philippines (Zip Code) 1709













(Twenty-third episode continued)



The dashboard speaker phone crackled with another running update.

“Gunman bounding up the wrong set of stairs. Exiting throng in an uproar. Private sentry moved to accost him but lost footing and was shoved down the steps.Gunshots, two, three!”

“Stop the trains right this minute! Get on the national security channel pronto and give the Palace code!” President Harry Sey fumbled the safety catch of his .45 caliber Gold Cup in a nervous twitch as he fiercely barked the order to the matted transceiver. The barreling convoy swept the curve that flowed into the Quirino Highway with fly-by precision. The screaming big bikes of the blue helmets blinked with lighthouse beams in the distance as their flight path caromed near vanishing point.

The President as was his daily habit when he felt overwhelmed by a crisis flicked on the built-in MP3 and played the Maha Mantras to the Abba Krishna. In unison both he and his driver bodyguard began the chant. “Hare Krishna, Hare Rama,” they fervently intoned.

The LRT (light rail transit) control center was sound proofed and looked unperturbed by the tumult in the street below. The cozy official looking blue padding over wooden vinyl tops and surfaces with matching braided upholstery blended smoothly with the soothing whirr of the ultra efficient air-conditioning console. Isolation and insulation from the turmoil of the landscape outside offered an ideal workplace that was keyed for a more highly responsive and unobstructed vantage position in the running of a railway system.

The panoramic wide angle screen spanned the entire far wall from floor to ceiling like an outsized home theater. The kaleidoscope throbbed with periodic pin lights that merrily ebbed their way towards square pegs brightly marked with numbers corresponding to way stations. The dispatcher rooted to the front seat at the center of the digital marsh conducted the intersecting array with virtuoso synchronization. Buttons in lieu of a baton vented the beat and the rhythm that made the electronic maze fall in with a systematic order akin to a symphony of the railway tracks.

Suddenly the bright graphic glow darkened ominously to a shade of purple. Digital neon embers marched across the top of the monitor baring the words: National Security Override. Code 210 Office of the President.

Alarm beeping sounded off in sensurround cacophony making the once peaceful threshold jump with an alacrity. The Director in disheveled pose came barging past the security door to plop unceremoniously beside the open mouthed dispatcher who initially turned to the Director with alarm but was drawn back by the big bold letters that emblazoned over everything.

“National Emergency Top Priority. National Security Headquarters Camp Crame. Official Channel 719. Shut Down The Entire System Immediately By Order of the Office of the President.”

The Director keyed away on the keyboard with dazzling dexterity. The whole system hunkered down to a dead stop. Trains between and inside stations jammed to a complete stop in the middle of the tracks. “Damn another brownout!” The commuters began to wail.

Twenty-Second Sequel of Angel of the Lord Novel by Jose Roxas Leveriza

The armored Chevy Suburban blaring high pitched alarm tones and glittering with circling blue rays levitated with breakneck velocity like a wayward UFO. With gnashing gears it roared up the ramp to Nagtahan bridge. The back-up posse of growling black SUV behemoths of the Presidential security detail struggled to keep abreast with the blistering pace.

“Gunman in business suit streaking through mid island divider beneath columns of elevated rail. Closing in by 50 meters towards stairs of Pedro Gil Station. He fired warning shots to ward off pedestrians out his way.”

V’8’s blazing maximum RPM, the President’s bullet proofed 4WD custom truck lurched forward to land with a groaning thud on the crest of the bridge bearing the full weight of the double thick protective steel plates. President Harry Sey knuckled the heavy tinted windshield with vehemence. “C’mon let’s fly, give it all you got,” he contorted with his shoulders to drive it on.

Jason Burke unhinged himself from the rumpled entanglement with Ellebana’s coiffed form.” Stay down, don’t move Counselor. I’ll break after Bader and see if I will draw rear guard fire. Keep your gun handy then pull back to the safety of the hospital. Check if anybody got hurt in the room!” Jason Burke coiled to spring up to his feet and affectionately brushed back Ellebana’s fine hair

Jason Burke bolted quickly for the underbelly of the elevated rail. He crouched low and darted sideways to offer a hard target for hidden ambushers. He tucked his automatic at the back and smoothed the ends of his white shirt to slide under his belt as he ran. He heard the trailing voice of Ellebana call out with concern. “Be careful, Reverend!”

“Ellebana down on the ground by the curb twenty meters from hospital gate. Missionary up on his feet and giving chase under the LRT. Beat patrolmen approaching the scene from Faura. Thirty meters!”

“Scramble 911 ambulance. Whip it out to Ellebana right now. Get people from hospital emergency to run out to assist Ellebana in front!” President depressed the control on his side window and stuck his arm out to flail at the slow moving cars in front. The driver turned to him with alarm. “Mr. President, get back in. You could be a target!” He warned.

The acrobatic Presidential squadron of SUV’s oddly trailed by motorcycle escorts clawing to catch up went airborne on the descent from top of the bridge. The wave looked like volcanic flow rampaging down to engulf everything at the bottom. The sea of bumper to bumper traffic that straddled the avenue from end to end like a huge parking lot got convulsed to scamper away like jumpy tropical fish.

The Harley type choppers of the mounted troopers seesawed left to right menacingly. They sideswiped the stubborn and the slow moving laggards to the sides and like hulking brutes bullied their way to the front of the mad caravan. The lead escort crunched to a stop directly under the traffic signals, got down and overrode the red lights to purge the directional flow of vehicles in the path of the caterwauling formation. All other points converging on the corner came to a standstill as the lumbering giants stampeded across like a herd of spooked battle tanks.

The President made the sign of the cross as a Christian then started to chant Hare Krishna Hare Rama to the Abba Krishna Almighty Father God.

Americana for an Oath Taking Under God

My son Regis quipped absent mindedly that he wanted to join the Internal Revenue Service or the Customs Collection Authority after graduation from college so he could partake of the fat payoffs from corruption. He wanted to inquire about taking the Philippine civil service exams so he could qualify for a position.

What brought this on was the sight of a Honda sports coupe Type R that zoomed past our non air-conditioned 17 year old Honda Civic hatchback that sputtered to fall behind lackadaisically. I guess the yawning gap in luster and horsepower rubbed salt on his angst. He wishfully recounted how his classmate acquired such a car last year as an advanced graduation gift from his Dad who worked as a Revenue agent.

I was flabbergasted to hear him talk that way. I could have bought a nicer car for myself if I didn’t spend my entire fortune sending him to an ivy school like De La Salle University to give him a head start in life. Never mind that. What does he learn in that school anyway to even talk like the men of my generation? Damn paradigm shift never happened.

I was so irritated that I turned on him and frowned,” I didn’t send you to La Salle to learn to steal money. If I knew that’s what you wanted to do I could have sent you to one of the diploma mills downtown which come cheap. You don’t need an expensive education to be corrupt.”

He knew my sermon was coming so he dug in quietly and regretted his flippancy. I said money is good but that doesn’t mean you have to sell your principles down the river. You go to an excellent school like La Salle so you can learn how to strive for excellence and expertise and get ahead in life in an honorable way. Not only for yourself but you have to scale the heights of achievement to contribute something to society.

Don’t make money the end all and be all. The prime example is that Parisian billionaire who committed suicide because he lost his family’s entire fortune to Bernard Madoff. He probably had enough dregs left in his barrel to allow him to live a pretty comfortable life without the mansions, the yachts, and the limos. But because he was blinded by the sacredness of riches in his life, he chose to end his life than live in the suburbs and drive a Citroen.

And you know what’s ironic, I said. A lot of depraved people will kill their own relatives just for the chance to own the kind of money that he couldn’t stomach to fall back to. What’s wrong with driving your own car and eating at a one Michelin star restaurant? The problem is he is shamed by the losing of an entire fortune. It came under his watch while it was earned by the craftiest of shenanigans by his forebears.

I told my son if we are to follow your line of reasoning that money is more important than principle why do beautiful girls go through a lot of pain earning a nursing degree? Why don’t they cut to the chase real quickly by becoming high class call girls or by joining show business to pose nude or make bold movies?

Then since he is an American citizen, I told him about how America grew rich and strong because of the principle of doing what is right. I said China worked its way up from communism to embrace a mutant capitalism to grow to become the third biggest economy in the world. How? On the backs of its exploited and underpaid workers.

I said that did you realize that there was a time in America when they didn’t even have to pay their workers because they were slaves? Do you think the America you now know grew rich and fat because they allowed such injustice to continue unchallenged because it brought them economic benefit?

In the name of principle and doing right at any price of sacrifice, they brought catastrophic ruin and devastation to their country, their families, and their homes to free the slaves. By such catharsis they were made strong as a country and as a people and became a world power not by the dictates of money or by any crisis stemming from its dearth, loss or disjuncture but by an uncompromising adherence and faithfulness to ideals.

And so on such a heartwarming occasion in history when a descendant of the very slaves that America freed rises to assume the highest office of the land to help it and lead it through one of the most perilous times in its existence, let us recall the words of an Abe Lincoln.

“that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain – that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom – and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

One Christmas Birth and Twice the Dying. A Holy Christmas Message.

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A Krishna Guru once asked me why I revere Mary in the pantheon of the Gods. I said I don’t worship Mary but I love her and adore her. He laughed and said,” How can you love Mary when you don’t even know what she really looks like?” I said Mary is everything good and beautiful and I see her manifestations around me everyday. She colors my world that otherwise would be so dreary. Mary inspires me to write from the heart.

The Guru then said you must be hypocritical because you write about the Krishna while you remain steadfast in your Catholic beliefs. I said I write about the Krishna in the internet with the hope that I could capture the attention of the millions of agnostics in the United States. If I can draw them with a merging of modern Physics and Krishna, then that would be better than no religion at all. The hook is the innovation. They are highly intelligent and Catholic dogmas and Krishna themes have become staid for them.

The Guru scoffed at my motivation. He said you are doing it for money. I said yes but money is secondary. If I can turn one million agnostics around to embrace the knowledge of God without making a single cent, I would still go through with the whole process. If they each send me one (1) dollar and end up with a windfall of one (1) million, I will give half to the poor and keep half for myself.

The Guru laughed and said you are virtually a scam artist because you are pandering a religion that is worthless. It may be better than having no religion at all like you say but these people will not be saved because what you advocate is no better than a sham. “Do you think they can be saved and be reunited with the Krishna when they die?”

I replied that the novel religious themes I write in the internet are not geared to convert those with religious faiths to transfer to the Krishna. They are meant to convey knowledge of God to the atheists and the agnostics. I have no desire to compare Krishna to Christianity or Buddhism and try to harp the merits of the former as the truer form.

Which leads to the question are the Catholics going to be saved if they don’t know the Krishna? Of course not, but they will be saved in the name of Jesus Christ if they are true to their covenant with Him. Will the millions of Muslims be saved if they don’t know Jesus? Of course not, but they will be saved in the name of Allah if they are true to the Koran.

There is only One True God. He is known by many Names and many forms of worship stemming from the spawning of cultures, civilizations, and traditions among different races and nations throughout the history of man. Those who know Him by Yahweh will be saved if they remain faithful to the Gospel Truths embodied in the Ark of the Covenant bequeathed through Moses.

The above discourse prompted the Guru to take another tack. He said Christ refers to the Almighty God the Father and not Jesus Christ, the Nazarene who is man. “How can your God suffer like a man on the cross?” I said our Lord Jesus was a real man with real flesh and blood and was born of the Blessed Virgin Mary. In the same way as the Second Person in the Holy Trinity, He is the real Son of God and sits at His right Hand. Just like what you know in the Krishna as the expansions of God, Jesus Christ is God Himself.

The Guru said that this mouthful of isms is all too easy to say but quite rhetorical and hypothetical, and at best confusing with no practical bearing on everyday living. He taunted me by saying your Jesus of Nazarene figured in history 2,000 years ago and never showed His face hence. Maybe He is greater than Napoleon or Hitler but just like them He remained fixed in His episode in history.

I said I have a personal experience that our Lord Jesus Christ is present amongst us in the present time. In fact, He died for me twice. I saw the Guru get stumped by what I just said and stood there with his mouth agape. I unraveled the story to him as he stood dumbfounded.

It was in 1983 and I was the General Manager of Archers Travel in Ermita. The board appointed a new assistant manager to assist me with the rigors of the deployment of what was to be the beginning of a long exodus of Filipino contract workers to Saudi Arabia. There were limited flights to the Middle East back then as the Filipino Diaspora through overseas employment was just starting.

The first target was Dammam. There was a long list that showed we needed to capture airline seats at the rate of 80 a day with various airline flights. The capacity was in such short supply because no charters were mobilized yet and PAL was still scrambling to lease additional aircraft. There were desperate times when at prohibitive fares we had no recourse but to connect via European hubs as far as London only to backtrack from there to Saudi Arabia.

His name was JC. He had a biblical aura. His eyes were deep-set and poignant. He was of medium build, dusky with an athletic wiry frame. He grew up in Jolo among the Tausugs and so developed a habit which was the most stupefying of all his quirks. He prayed to both the Christian God and the Muslim God.

Back then we made extra commission by filling up seats of some airlines. They remained in the minority as most rode the high demand as their opportunity to maximize revenue and to be courted for the valuable limited inventory. The snotty European carriers thumbed their noses on the crass contract worker market where passengers tended to be ruggedly attired.

To line our own personal pockets with the incentive commission we naturally favored the airlines that gave such. When they get fully booked we made the groups scheduled for deployment to wait for the following week giving the guise that all the rest of the airlines had no more seats. To my chagrin, JC put his foot down and refused to play along even if he stood to get the second biggest share after myself.

“Joey “he said, “these people hocked their farms and their implements to the usurers just so they can get out to get better paying jobs abroad. They pay usurious interest rates and the quicker they can start earning in Saudi Arabia, the faster they can pay back their debts. The longer you keep them waiting in Manila where they have to spend extra for board and lodging, the more their families will get burrowed in ballooning borrowings and fall prey to the depredations of the money lenders.”

“You make money from certain flights a week anyway. We must all be content with that and not seek more over the anguish and suffering of our countrymen.”

I had no choice but to go with him. He could expose the whole rigmarole to the board if I persisted to ram it past him. For lack of an option to set him up to be booted out from the company at that early stage, I let the matter go begrudgingly.

It was that fateful summer day back in 1983 when I learned who He really was. We had to drive to Ilocos eight hours north of Manila to attend the funeral of the mother of our President of the company. On the drive back, as we tried to overtake a jeepney at a fast clip, it swerved and sideswiped us off the highway to crash into a tree head on. The car was a total wreck.

I stirred to a fleeting consciousness only to hear JC mumble weakly to the rescuers to cut me free first. “Get him out first, he has two children” were the exact words he said which are forever emblazoned in my psyche. For lack of the equipment available in the States which they use to cut through crumpled metal, it took a long time to get me out and whisk me by tricycle to a hospital in Pangasinan. By the time they got back to JC He had bled to death trapped in the twisted steel which became his deathbed.

And so I remember Him up to this day and never forget His example every single day and live my life each day to the best of my ability to emulate Him. I have done all I can to make Him come alive in the hearts of my children and will do the same if given an extension in longevity to do the same for my granddaughter, Sophia Leveriza Lina.

I love money and wish I had more of it. I envy those with the trappings of wealth. But because of His example it’s not the top priority in my life.

As for the Abba Krishna, I pray to Him too by His example just the same.

Merry Christmas.

Angel of the Lord Novel (Part 21) By Jose Leveriza II

Previously:

PLEASE CLICK THIS LINK TO GO BACK TO VIEW ANGEL OF THE LORD PART 20




Father and sons were ecstatic. They reveled in the trappings of their success. Abe Potenciano was a jeweler with a solid and growing reputation in San Pablo City in the province of Laguna, the richest province in the Philippines. It was a scenic drive of about an hour south of the Capital. The scenery reminded you of Orange County in California except for the occasional rice paddies tilled with real live carabaos bearing the ever present cluster of farmers’ thatched huts.

Together with his driven wife Paula, Abe built a prosperous jewelry business from scratch and nurtured it to lucrative heights from a fledgling hole in the wall carved out of the garage at his grandfather’s house near the market. Abe’s own father negotiated with the patriarch to grant it rent free concession to help him along in gaining a stable footing. The twenty square meter beginnings graduated to two hundred in the biggest mall fronting the town main square.

The Potencianos on Abe’s side of the family as well as the Cabreras on Paula’s end were landowning class. While most members of the twin clans elected a more laid back lifestyle choosing to be reliant on the on the forty five days cycle of coconut harvests from the landholdings, Abe and Paula strove to eke out a fortune of their own. It was an ingenious move.

Some members of the family who became doctors and professionals tended to sell off their inheritance and move on. It was different for Abe and Paula. They used the proceeds accumulated from their business to buy off the clan members who wanted to sell out. In a roundabout way they grew to end up owning most of the clan property to the chagrin of the overshadowed holdovers.

The persistence and hard work paid off in great dividends from the enterprise but drew brickbats from envious clan old boys. They claimed that Abe should have ascribed equity value to the twenty square meter space in the garage of old and should have recognized that as capital participation coming from the old man entitled to half a share in the growing venture. Abe countered that the house ended up being divided among the heirs of the grandfather Don Manuel Potenciano, out of which Abe’s branch through his father Daniel received a fifth portion. Ergo, the rent free concession stemmed from that and nothing more could be legally convoluted to mean stock participation in the take off of the jewelry business.

























Paris Double Vanity



































Walnut Kitchen Island




The lifestyle level of the indolent segment suffered a decline whenever the land legacy was divvied up among the inheritors. The parcels shrunk in proportion to the number of entitlements. Thus as the lifestyle of Abe’s faction soared to astounding heights, the rest grew cobwebs in moribund bottoms. This led to petty conflicts in the beginning and escalated to more serious boundary and proprietary skirmishes as the rumblings of jealousy and reproaches increased in decibels.

It worsened the imbalance to see Abe’s children blaze successful career paths through college and professional stature. Lara, Abe’s eldest girl, clinched a nursing diploma and progressed with keen vision to land a much sought after position in a top Chicago hospital. Fifty thousand dollars a year as salary when multiplied by forty times to arrive at local revenue drew uuh’s and aah’s from the neighborhood pundits. Abe and Paula beamed with pride and always referred to it as part of the fruits of labor.

Abe’s main antagonist in the family circle was the barrel-chested breast thumping Maddox who took pride in leading the forays to protect the family acreage from poachers or encroachers. When communist insurgents trooped down from the neighboring Bondoc peninsula to try to establish a foothold on the other side of the Holy Mountain, Mt. Banahaw, Maddox drew plaudits for the active role he played in repelling them. Risking his life to benefit the security of the inherited lands of the clan, Maddox thought wrong or right, vested in him a license to impose his will in the resolution of internal boundary disputes in the clan councils.

Maddox pegged his destiny to the land and so did his children. Michael, the eldest, and Abner, the boy after a series of girls who either eloped or were impregnated out of wedlock, both failed to finish college. They stuck to the close environs afforded by the lay of the land which their father inherited and much like him lost their ingenuity and drive to secure for themselves a better state or place. They married their high school sweethearts and sired ever growing numbers and sizes of offspring which Maddox took joy with but daunted him with a never ending tug of financial problems. This was only a matter of course because they all chose to live off the static cycle of the coconut harvests.

Alex, the second child and the eldest boy of Abe, breezed through law school and passed the last bar exam. He was due to undertake his oath taking as a full pledged lawyer and Abe wanted to bestow on him a special gift befitting the august occasion. Abe made arrangements with an auto dealer north of the Capital which was owned by his former classmate in high school to procure a brand new 2008 Toyota Camry sedan for Alex. Both Paula and Mar the youngest son who was in his sophomore year in a computer course in college squirmed in delight in anticipation of the head spinning turn of events




















Alex threaded the gas pedal so finely that the engine hummed with a purr and floated smoothly over the cement road of Taft Avenue. The white Toyota Camry gleamed brightly with a newness made more obvious by the temporary license plates which bore the words “For registration.” Alex held off on the speed and glided the car just right to avoid crossing the wayward paths of the public utility jeepneys that wove in and out of the rightmost lane.

Mar, the younger boy, frolicked in the roominess and wide leg room at the back. He rubbed his hands repeatedly on the spanking new upholstery that felt so good to the touch. Mar commented that it was opportune that he came along in the milestone event.

The plush grain of the synthetic leather seat cover gave off that luxuriant smell of new school bags on first days of school. He lazed back and smiled in delectable anticipation of the upcoming lunch ahead at his favorite Pizza place in Makati City, another thirty minutes drive past La Salle University on their route going south on the busy avenue.

Abe felt stirrings of fait accompli in his being. He leaned back on the cushiony head rest and glanced at the glowing expression on Alex’s happy countenance as he drove. It felt good to bask in the reflected glory of his son’s achievement. It even felt better than his own great strides taken to bring his jewelry business to the pinnacle of success. Now there’s only Mar to see through two more years of college and then maybe the endearments coming from grandchildren playing at his feet will be the next big step to assuring the continuation of his legacy.

Right now there were recent souring episodes that needled his recall and made him frown with tension to depart fleetingly from the pleasantness of the present. His memory took him back to that intense conflict plagued family council in the abode of the family matriarch, Dona Ester, who tried to mediate a loggerhead between Alex and Maddox. The meeting was called to thresh out the boiling impasse before it got out of control.





























CAMRON DINING CHAIRS

























PART 21 OF THE ANGEL OF THE LORD NOVEL BY JOSE LEVERIZA II TO BE CONTINUED_ _ _

Continuation of Part 21 Angel of the Lord Novel By Jose R. Leveriza

Maddox claimed a right of way over Abe’s property measuring twenty by one hundred meters. He demanded that it be carved out of the side of Abe’s lot to gain access to the newly constructed highway that so opportunely materialized at the western end of Abe’s landholding which used to be the limbo leading nowhere. Before that Maddox own portion fronted the local feeder road. He appropriated the front portion to himself over the objection of Abe who wanted the inherited farm to be divided horizontally to grant frontal access to the narrow side road for both halves.

Maddox bullied his way to get what he wanted and then rebuffed Abe when the latter asked for a right of way to the dirt road. Maddox was the prime instigator in the intrigues directed at Abe for his vibrant upward mobility putting to shame the niggardly pace of economic affairs for the rest. In imposing his own will in the uneven division of the land, he floated the unlikely yarn that the deceased brothers who were their parents agreed verbally to such an apportionment. To buttress the fact he cajoled and intimidated various spineless members of the clan to be stoolies.

It was with rancor that Abe and his family acceded to their fate. Wife, Paula cried endless tears but kept it from the forlorn Abe to avoid inciting him to take a more forceful stand in the face of the blatant coercion. The kibitzers in the sidelines thought it only proper that proud nosed Abe the achiever of the family should suffer a comeuppance at that point. Then fate turned the wheel around so pompously to favor Abe’s backward position. The new expressway was constructed right behind his backyard. The tables were turned and it was Maddox turn to grovel.

“You cannot refuse me that right of way.” “It will be unfair because the new highway will practically multiply the value of my land many times over.” “My family is not as wealthy as yours.’ “You cannot deny us this golden opportunity that comes rarely.” Maddox did not want to beg and so covered up his family’s dire financial straits in innocuous terms. His sons were in trouble because they run afoul of the illegal numbers kingpin in the locality when they gambled away and lost the remittance due to the gambling lord in the cockpit arena.

Abe shook his head and smiled ruefully. He could not imagine the short memory of people. Or else they purposely choose to be insensitive to again gain an upper ground.“When I pleaded with you many times to give me a right of way to the feeder road after you virtually expropriated the front for yourself so unjustly, you know how you answered me?” “You so callously forgot blood relations and offered to buy it from me for a pittance.” Abe sneered back with disdain. “Now I offer you the same for double the price of your worthless offer!”

“How dare you with all your greed and wealth throw that in my face,” Maddox thundered with vehemence as he got up menacingly. “Weren’t you benefited when I single handedly mowed down those recalcitrant homesteaders, call them squatters, who had the gall to encroach on the family areas?” “Now this is how you treat me, the one who risked life and limb for all of you?” “You are not only selfish and self aggrandizing, but you are a grand ingrate as well!” “I should do to you what I did to those interlopers!” Maddox openly threatened Abe with mayhem.

Abe cowered and was overcome by nervous spasms but he reached that point of rage that he didn’t care anymore what happened to him. Losing his composure which was unusual, he got up and grabbed Maddox by the collar. “SOB, all of us have just one life to spare, I’ve reached the end of my patience with you, you rascal!”
















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