One Year Later

I was sitting in Tina's Sunset Restaurant, watching the outriggers shuffle lazily through the clear waters of Sabang Bay, when Tomboy took a seat opposite me, ordered a San Miguel from Tina's daughter, and told me that someone else had to die. It was five o'clock in the afternoon, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and up until that point I'd been in a good mood.

I told him that I didn't kill people any more, that it was a part of my past I didn't want to be reminded of, and he replied that he understood all that, but once again we needed the money. 'It's just the way the cookie crumbles,' he added, with the sort of bullshit 'I share your suffering' expression an undertaker might give to one of his customers' relatives. Tomboy Darke was my business partner and a man with a cliche for every occasion, including murder.

Tina's was empty, as was usually the case at that time of day. It was right at the end of the collection of bars and guest houses that pass for the small tourist town of Sabang's main drag, and tucked away enough that few of the tourists ever used it, so I'd known as soon as Tomboy had asked to meet me here that something was up. It was the sort of place you went to when you wanted to talk without anyone else listening. So I talked. 'Who's the target?'

He paused while the beer was put down in front of him, then waited until Tina's daughter was out of earshot. 'The bloke's name's Billy Warren,' he said quietly. 'He's on the Thursday flight out of Heathrow, arriving in Manila Friday morning.'