Mr Nice
We stopped at a bar named The Hobbit House. Nine of us poured down the miniature stairway. We were warmly greeted by a roomful of midgets. None of the bar staff or entertainers was over five feet high.
‘You going to buy a couple of these out, Jack?’ I said as a joke.
‘That’s an idea. I’ll buy seven of them out. Seven fucking dwarves. I’ll grab me a Snow White before the night’s out.’
After several more drinks in bizarre bars, five Manila street beggars, seven dwarves, two nuns, Jack the Fibber, and I fell out of the jeepney outside the Manila Mandarin. Jack walked to Reception and asked for a table for sixteen to be prepared in the hotel’s gourmet restaurant.
The hotel staff were used to being surprised by requests from Jack. He tipped them fortunes, so they always accommodated his every demand. They weren’t exactly keen on this freaky entourage traipsing through the plush lobby, but they’d put up with it.
Jack ordered too much of everything: lobsters, oysters, roast meats and poultry, and the entire dessert trolley. The nuns and dwarves ate handsomely. The beggar children ate nothing, but put all the uneaten food into plastic bags to take away. Jack paid the huge bill, gave all the waiters enormous tips, escorted the nuns, dwarves, and beggars to the still waiting jeepney, and bid them all goodnight.
Lord Moynihan’s limousine was outside the Manila Mandarin at 1 p.m. the next day. The chauffeur took Phil and me beyond the city limits of Metro Manila to a plush and expansive residential area. We pulled into the driveway of a large house, once the residence of the Peruvian Ambassador. Moynihan greeted us and introduced me to his beautiful Filipina wife, Editha, and their three house guests: Jimmy Newton, a London solicitor; his Australian wife, Helen; and an Australian named Joe Smith. Joe looked like a cross between Crocodile Dundee and Kirk Douglas. His arms were tattooed, and his eyes laughed. Several servants brought us Pimm’s cocktails. Moynihan took me to his office. We sat at his desk.
‘Howard, what we say in this room remains private, you understand. I know Phil is your good friend, at least, he claims to be, no? But I prefer him not to know the details of all conversations we might have. Understood? I understand a book has been written about you. I would be absolutely thrilled to read it. Do you have a copy?’
I usually carried a few copies with me to flash at impressionable strangers.
‘Yes, Tony, I do,’ I replied. ‘It’s at the Manila Mandarin. I’ll give it to you. Who told you about it?’
‘Your friend, Phil. You see why I’m hesitant to trust him. I find him a little indiscreet. But you’ll give me a copy?’
‘Sure.’
‘Signed?’
‘If you wish.’
‘Excellent. Now Jimmy, whom you just met, is my very best friend. We were at both Stowe and Oxford together. By the way, which school did you attend? Phil was a bit vague when I asked him. He said you went to Oxford but did not know anything else.’
‘I went to a mixed grammar school in South Wales.’
‘In that case, Howard, I presume I’m safe in saying you went on to Jesus College, Oxford, the home of brilliant Welsh minds, no?’
‘No. I went to Balliol.’
‘Really! It’s some considerable time since I’ve had the honour of a Balliol man for lunch. Well, anyway, back to my point. Howard, I won’t beat about the bush. I know you are a man of great charm, intelligence, wealth, and abilities in, shall we say, certain unorthodox trading techniques. I have the strongest intuition we should be able to help each other. Forgive me being blunt, but you have the occasional need for a false passport, no?’
I smiled.
‘Well, Jimmy gets the very best passports. British, naturally. One wouldn’t want to be anything else these days. If you wanted one, it would be very easy to arrange. Would you like me to suggest to him you might like to be his client?’
I hadn’t used a false passport since I was Mr Nice and didn’t feel I actually needed one these days. Still, it could come in handy.
‘Yes, please, Tony. Thanks. Does Joe sell false passports too?’
Moynihan gave one of his characteristic and loud forced laughs.
‘No, no, no. I thought you might be about to ask me about him. Joe Smith was actually the first person ever to smuggle marijuana into Australia. You see, I do know some interesting characters, what! I suspect Joe still smuggles marijuana into Australia. He is also growing it here in the Philippines, using, I think, seeds from Thailand. Would that make some sort of sense?’
It made perfect sense to me. Joe sounded interesting.
‘Now, Howard, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. We were both delighted when Phil told us he had persuaded you to come here. You have now been introduced to each other. Please feel free to do business with each other. I would be grateful for some sort of commission, of course, but how much, I leave to you.
‘Howard, again I’ll be blunt. I’ve lived here for seventeen years and know everyone who matters in the Philippines. Elizabeth Marcos is a very close friend of mine, as are quite a number of those in power. Whatever you want done here, and I think I do mean whatever, you can rest assured that I am more likely to be able to facilitate it than anyone else. For example, I was able to secure for Joe a large area of land in Mountain Province for his agricultural activities. He says it’s ideal for his purposes. It was easy for me, actually, because my summer residence is in Baguio, right at the edge of Mountain Province. Manila is far too hot in the summer. If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate.’
‘Tony, do you have any pull with Philippine Airlines?’
‘Of course. Why?’
‘Well from time to time I’m a travel agent. My company specialises in China. I’ve just come back from Beijing. I came here on Philippine Airlines from Bangkok and noticed that they had just started a service between Manila and Beijing. As Philippine Airlines also fly from Manila to London, we could offer our customers an alternative airline to fly from London to China, with perhaps a couple of days’ stopover in the Philippines.’
‘Well, Howard, I must say it wasn’t the sort of thing I had in mind from you. But, yes, Ramón Cruz, who runs Philippine Airlines, has been a friend of mine for years. I could easily have had him here for lunch today. He’d have come at the drop of a hat. Let me know when you want to see him. Shall I send Joe in to see you? I’ll see how lunch is getting on. We’re having lamb.’
Moynihan left me alone in his office. I gazed at the books on his shelves: Burke’s Peerage, Who’s Who, The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, and History of the English-Speaking People. I noticed among them, sticking out like a sore thumb, a copy of David Leigh’s High Time. Moynihan was a careless liar. But why that question about Jesus College? Maybe he’d never read the book; maybe he collected signed copies of all books.
Joe Smith walked in.
‘Good to know you at last, mate. It’s like telling a granny not to suck eggs, but don’t trust this cunt Moynihan. I bet the cunt told you all about me.’
I nodded and smiled. I liked Joe.
‘Well, we may as well take advantage of it, mate. What I’m after is a good contact in Pakistan. I got my own guy in Bangkok that gives me great gear. Phil knows him. I got what I want here. I’ve been bringing dope into Australia all my life. I need someone reliable to get shit out of Pakistan. There’s a huge demand for it back home. I don’t need credit. I’ll pay upfront. I ain’t ready yet. I just want to know if I can call on you when the time’s right. Come down and see what I’ve got in Sydney first.’
‘Call me whenever you want, Joe.’
We shook hands and exchanged phone numbers. We joined the table for lunch. Moynihan was holding forth.
‘The Philippines is an extraordinary country: eight thousand islands covering an absolutely vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean. Did you know there are over eighty-five separate tribes and languages, none bearing the remotest resemblance to each other? King Philip of Spain just drew a circle around the whole bloody
lot and gave it his name. The Spanish ruled their primitive subjects from Mexico, gave them all Spanish names, and made them into Catholics. The priests said, “Yes, it’s all right to dance and chant in the streets, but do remember it’s called St Stephen’s Day, not Pisangpisang,” or some such name. Then the priests gave them the gory stuff about the crucifixion, all those nails and blood and whatnot, and, of course, the savages absolutely adored it. They lapped it up. After a few centuries of that, America marched in and made it their one and only colony. There was never an American colony before the Spanish-American War, and there has never been another one since.’
Jimmy Newton spoke up.
‘This outburst of imperialism must have amused the British, Tony, especially at that time, at the height of Empire.’
‘Oh, it did, Jimmy, it did. You must know Kipling’s The White Man’s Burden.’
‘Remind me, Tony.’
Moynihan launched into an over-dramatic rendition of Kipling’s poem:
‘Take up the White Man’s burden –
Send forth the best ye breed –
Go, bind your sons to exile To serve your captives’ need;
To wait in heavy harness
On fluttered folk and wild –
Your new-caught, sullen peoples,
Half-devil and half-child.’
‘One can see what they mean when they speak of the Philippines having spent two hundred years in a convent, then fifty years in Hollywood,’ commented Jimmy Newton.
Moynihan got his second wind.
‘Indeed one can, and now, as a result, all the Filipinos want to go to either Heaven or Los Angeles. They seem to prefer the latter, I might add. Other than this insane desire to go to the United States, there is nothing else that appears to unite them: no common culture or national pride. In fact, the Philippines is the only country I know of where being a half-caste is considered as a step-up from being indigenous. Extraordinary! Yet they are such lovely people. I love Kipling’s description of them: “Half-devil and half-child”.’
Lady Editha laid out the caviare.
‘Are these the fish eggs you nicked from Philippine Airlines, Tony?’ asked Joe.
‘Well, the first-class cabin crew did facilitate the means, yes, but I think “nicked” is the wrong word. I think they feel themselves handsomely rewarded. My biggest complaint about the Philippines has always been the food. Judging from what’s available, even at expensive restaurants, the local cuisine seems to have blended the worst elements of Spanish and Chinese fare into an inedible gruel. Accordingly, I have to make my own arrangements to get such basic necessities as foie gras and caviare. Even decent Christmas puddings and Colman’s mustard have to be specially imported.’
‘Must be rough on you, Tony,’ said Joe.
‘Well, quite frankly, it is. I merely wish to eat what I’m accustomed to. I’ll gladly pay for it, and if I have to buy it from Philippine Airlines’ chief steward, I’ll do so.’
‘Do you not like any Philippine food, Tony?’ I asked.
‘They do have one delicacy to which I’m partial, and that’s a specially prepared jawbone of a tuna fish. They serve it at only one restaurant in the world, and it’s just outside Davao in Mindinao. I’ve just come back from there. We could go there some time, Howard. I’m sure you’ll be back in the Philippines in the not too distant future.’
Beluga caviare and Stolichnaya vodka were followed by roast lamb. There was plenty of Château Palmer to wash it down. Crême brûlée with Château d’Yquem made for a good dessert. The men spread out for coffee. Phil sat with Moynihan and Joe. I sat next to Jimmy Newton.
‘Jimmy, I’d be interested in buying one of your books. What are your terms?’
‘Delighted. I’ll need two photographs and a £500 deposit. If you’re happy with the passport when completed, I’d want another £2,000.’
‘Are they real ones, actually issued by the Office?’
‘Oh, I only use real people who for some reason will not travel, usually London tramps. I get their birth certificates and take it from there.’
‘That’s fine. You’re on.’
‘Excellent. If, Howard, you know of others who may be interested, I’ll gladly pay a commission.’
I thought of Hobbs and his friends of dubious persuasions. If they could be armed with false passports, they could marry a bunch more Hong Kong girls and make me some more money. The idea had potential.
‘I’ll let you know, Jimmy.’
Jimmy Newton gave me his Knightsbridge address and telephone number.
Phil and I flew back to Bangkok the next day. Moynihan had told him about my request for assistance in doing business with Philippine Airlines. I explained in detail what had happened with respect to Hong Kong International Travel Centre and its expansion into China. Phil listened intently and offered to open and finance a Bangkok branch of Hong Kong International Travel. I accepted.
After staying just one night in Bangkok, I flew to Palma, where Judy was organising the conversion of our new home. I phoned LAPD. Flash answered. ‘Is that you, buddy? I’m sure glad you called. There’s bad news. They busted Ernie. He’s been in the can for over a week.’
Ernie wasn’t supposed to get busted. On his payroll were top lawyers, police, politicians, CIA agents, senior Mafia figures, and Hell’s Angels, to name but a few. He had been a fugitive for twelve years. What had gone wrong?
When I next called LAPD, Ernie was out of jail. The cops had discovered his true identity, busted him for the 1973 rock-group scam, and let him out on bail. He didn’t want to risk talking to me on the phone just yet, but if Judy and the children came out to California, he’d give them a good time and some messages for me. He’d correctly assumed that I couldn’t get an American visa.
Joe Smith rang. He didn’t realise I was a travel agent until Moynihan told him after I’d left Manila. Joe was a travel agent, too. His agency had offices in several Australian cities. Would I come to Sydney within a month?
Phil rang. The Bangkok office of Hong Kong International Travel Centre was about to open. I was needed at the opening. Work on the body-massage parlour was making good progress. I should go over and have a look at it.
Moynihan rang. He had spoken to Ramón Cruz of Philippine Airlines. It looked promising. I should fly over soon to meet him.
Balendo rang. The Chinese Ambassador to Great Britain had agreed to officially open Hong Kong International Travel Centre’s new offices in Piccadilly. I would have to be in London to attend the opening.
There was a telex from Malik. Mehar Paper Mills, the company of which I was a director, had been successful in negotiating a several-million-dollar loan from the Pakistan Government. Very important business meetings were about to take place in Karachi. I should try to attend.
Legitimate business was beginning to get as hectic as the mother-business.
Patrick Lane rang and suggested to me that Judy and the children stay with him while they were visiting Ernie in California.
‘Judy, you want to travel again, love?’
‘Where to?’
‘To California, to Patrick’s.’
‘Of course. The children would love to see their cousins. I suppose you’ll be going to Bangkok to check on your massage parlour.’
‘Well, I might call in there, but I’ve got to go to Australia for the travel business.’
‘You lucky thing. I’ve always wanted to go there.’
‘Why don’t you meet me there after you see Patrick?’
‘I think that’s a wonderful idea, Howard.’
We flew from Palma to London. Judy and the children were given round-the-world flights via the United States and Australia. I stayed in London at the travel agency. After a week or so, I booked a flight to Australia. I went to Australia House to get an Australian visa. I had to leave my passport overnight. The next day when I went to collect it, I was told I could not have an Australian visa because I had been convicted of a serious charge. A hundred year
s ago that would have guaranteed a trip to Australia; now it was enough to prevent it.
I rang Joe and told him I couldn’t come to Sydney. I’d see him in the Philippines some time. I made arrangements to meet Judy and the children in Hong Kong.
I flew to Bangkok. The body-massage parlour was almost finished. It was called Panache. A number of extraordinarily beautiful girls had already been signed up. The downtown Bangkok travel agency was finished. A lavish party was thrown. Representatives from all the important airlines and tour operators attended.
I flew to Manila and met Ramón Cruz of Philippine Airlines. He said that Philippine Airlines were about to open their own office in London and was delighted to meet the director of a non-IATA-registered travel agency with which his company could liaise. He was sure we would be able to do business in the future.
President Marcos was originally from a village near Laog, the main city of Ilocos Norte. After his rise to power, he arranged for his son Bombol to be appointed Governor of Ilocos Norte. Moynihan had been invited to Bombol’s birthday party and had extended the invitation to include me.
Early on a Saturday morning, Moynihan and I were flown at Philippine Government expense from Manila to Laog in a small private plane. Bollinger champagne and smoked salmon sandwiches had been pre-packed for consumption on the plane. A chauffeur-driven limousine took us from the runway to the Governor’s mansion. There was a huge barbecue in the garden.
The party was a very grand affair with an open-air orchestra. Several Government ministers were present. I was introduced to Bombol, who grinned and said nothing. I made the acquaintance of some Filipino dignitaries and took the opportunity to collect lots of business cards and give away many of my own. I was getting hooked on this business-card thing. Several Filipinos came with us to Laog airport to see us off on our return flight to Manila. I was welcome to go back there anytime.
After another day or so in Manila, I flew to Hong Kong, arriving just before Judy and the children. We checked into the Shangri-La. Ernie had given her new telephone numbers for me to use. LAPD had become compromised. Ernie stressed the need for greater security precautions, particularly in communications. A friend of Ernie’s was arriving in Hong Kong the next day to meet me. He would book into the Regal Meridien. His name was Gerry Wills.