Near Port Selao
I can’t believe it. I’ve been furiously scribbling notes for the past 2 hours trying desperately to recall every word the Jackal said to me over our last three interviews.
My cassette tapes have been confiscated – the tapes containing the Jackal interviews. All three of my interviews are gone. I have nothing.
I woke this morning to banging in the hotel hallway. Every day reveals some new crisis, so much so that these emergencies start to feel routine.
Just as I considered making a hasty exit, the banging arrived at my door. Two men entered -- contractors. An African who looked to be in charge and a younger Filipino. While the African stood at the entrance, the Filipino began rifling through my belongings.
I asked the African who he was, APR or UFLL, but he gave me nothing. Suddenly the Filipino shouted, “I have them!”
He was clutching my cassettes. “Good,” snapped the African. “Take them. We’ll destroy them at the office.”
They both turned and marched out. I raced after them shouting to stop. I followed them right down to the street. I could have been a ghost. They walked with complete disregard for my presence. They climbed into their rover and sped off. The Filipino parted with a sideways smirk to me.
My tapes were gone. Were they really planning on destroying them? God, I hope not. And I can’t tell you if they were APR or UFLL.