Free Philippine Hardpunch by Jim Case Page B

two kilometers.
    His run slowed to a more dignified strut once he reached the gate, where he stood to watch the single chopper descend and
     land.
    Escaler joined him.
    “The other three—”
    Escaler let the sentence die.
    Locsin knew what he meant. He too had fully expected to see the
four
Hueys Javier’s camp had radioed were sent out, with the Jefferses in tow as well as those responsible for all of this, alive
     or dead, but all he could see was Arturo Javier’s angry features inside the Huey as the chopper touched down.
    The NPA camp still smoldered and smoked with telling evidence of the damage delivered here. The fires had been put out, the
     bodies and wounded cleared away, but smoke drifted everywhere and the heat from piles of rubble that had been various structures
     added to the already unbearable heat of the day beneath increasingly heavy, stationary clouds.
    The Huey’s pilot cut his engine and the rotors whooshed slowly to a stop.
    Locsin and Escaler started from the gate, past their men who eyed the surrounding jungle with far more interest and wariness
     than they did the chopper. Locsin’s attention fell on no other after Arturo Javier appeared at the side hatchdoor, backed
     by a dozen or more of his own troops who leaped after him to the ground to fan out, shoulder to shoulder behind their leader
     with their AK-47s in firing position, clearly establishing dominance of this scene.
    Locsin wanted to turn and run but he knew he could not do that. He kept walking toward Javier.
    His own men did nothing to take any sort of defense posture.
    “What shall we tell them?” Escaler asked, in a voice low enough for no other to hear, when they were halfway from the gate
     to the men waiting at the chopper. Locsin tried to quell the rising panic coursing through him, to slow his jumbled thought
     processes.
    “L—let me handle this,” he instructed, damning the quaver in his voice. “There were no hostages, do you understand that? There
     were no hostages.”
    Escaler nodded.
    They reached where Javier stood, combat boots planted squarely, pressed and starched camou fatigues, and those of his men,
     a sharp contrast to the bedraggled appearances of Locsin and his personnel. Javier’s apelike features glistened in the muggy
     sunlight.
    Locsin experienced again the curious combination of repulsion and fear he always felt in this man’s presence. He extended
     a hand.
    “Arturo, it is good of you to come to my, to our, assistance.”
    The greeting sounded hollow even to Locsin. He cursed the patina of sweat he felt on his face.
    Javier, cool and arrogant, ignored the proffered hand, his eyes cold pinpoints of steel which Locsin could feel boring holes
     into him as if Javier could see through him. He sensed Escaler easing slightly back, away from him. He felt isolated and suddenly
     very afraid.
    “What has happened here?”
    Javier’s demand matched the steel in his eyes.
    “An attack, my… good friend.”
    “I can see that, imbecile. Who attacked you?”
    “Ah, of that, we are not yet quite sure,” Locsin replied. “A commando force. You… intercepted them?”
    “They escaped us.” Javier reported that fact with no show of emotion. “They killed many of my men. I lost much equipment.
     This can be contained from the press, but only with extreme difficulty and a possible show of our hand at a most crucial time.”
    “I… wish I knew who they were—” Locsin began.
    Javier sprang forward before Locsin had time to dodge. He grabbed two handfuls of Locsin’s soiled tunic and yanked him forward,
     nearly off his feet, so that Locsin’s face was but inches from Javier’s, the bigger man holding him half-dangling on his tiptoes.
    “Who were they?”
    “I… I swear, I do not know!” Locsin gasped. “It is God’s truth!”
    “
Why
were they here, then? Why did they attack your base?”
    “Government troops, perhaps—”
    Javier’s left hand lashed out an open-palmed slap across