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the doorway was Takishi, holding a silenced machine gun at his side.
    He smiled and finished his business.
    “And it is good you are not in my line of work, Admiral,” he said, stepping over the bodies.
    Leaning over the admiral’s corpse, he whispered to the man’s lifeless face, “Politics? This is about national survival, my dear friend.”
    Takishi, who used the moniker “Charlie Watts,” pulled out his satellite-enabled phone and sent a text message to his contact, “Mick Jagger.”
    Satisfaction.
    A moment later Mick Jagger sent a return note:
    Let it bleed.
    Indeed, Takishi thought. If you only knew.
    Takishi boarded his Shin Meiwa as the men in the black limousine moved to dispose of the attack boat.

CHAPTER 6

    Takishi was a busy man. That morning he had flown nearly nineteen hundred kilometers from Yonaguni to Davao City, Mindanao, to meet quickly with the Abu Sayyaf leader there.
    He stooped and stepped down the ladder of the Shin Meiwa. The new version of an endangered species of an airplane, with its upgraded Japanese computer avionics and GPS technology, made the vessel perfect for Takishi’s purposes.
    As he stood on the steaming runway, the bright sunlight and intense Mindanao heat rapped him in the face. He was tired from the previous night’s seafaring activities, and the humidity further sucked his strength. Yet, he was more at home there than bouncing around the cockpit of Kinoga’s attack boat. Dismissing the thoughts of killing the admiral and his men, Takishi was focused on his next task. So much to do.
    Meeting Takishi on the tarmac was Commander Douglas Talbosa, a snake-eyed man who led the entire Abu Sayyaf movement in the Philippines, having engineered several attacks and kidnappings over the past decade. The more spectacular, the better, because the money would pour into the Abu Sayyaf coffers once they were able to post onto the Internet the images of death and destruction. Talbosa was unusually tall for a Filipino, nearly six feet, and wore an Australian bush hat with one side flipped up. Takishi looked at him and thought the man at least had some style.
    That an emerging Muslim extremist terror network existed in that remote southern isle of the Philippine archipelago was no surprise to Takishi. He knew that Al Qaeda was seeking areas that lacked governance, and the hundreds of islands that constituted the Republic of the Philippines were impossible to govern effectively. The remote islands presented the perfect sanctuary ingredients: desperate, uneducated peasants, isolated terrain, and clandestine routes of ingress and egress.
    Those ingredients were perfect for Takishi’s plan as well.
    His sunglasses shielded his eyes from the bright sun and the Filipino commander. The prop wash from the four propellers of the Shin Meiwa blew hot air against his back as he bowed. Fortunately, Takishi had worn his lightweight khakis for his final meeting with the Al Qaeda knockoff group.
    Talbosa returned the bow and said in broken English, “Good news. But first, Takishi, I should show you our plans for the entire operation again.”
    “I only have a few minutes, Talbosa, but I wanted to make sure we had no remaining problems.”
    “Yes, yes, no problem,” Talbosa said quickly with a heavy accent. “All operations are no problem. All good. Good news, too.”
    “What news?”
    “We have destroyed two ranger C-130 airplanes. My deputy, Pascual, is securing them now.”
    Takishi reflected a moment, glad his eyes were hidden by sunglasses. The Rolling Stones work quickly , he mused.
    “Yes, that is good news. Do you have all of the information and ammunition you require?”
    “We have most of what we need. Luzon will attack the Subic ammo point. No problem. They get the ammo from Subic for us and to keep the Americans from having it. No problem.”
    “Okay, you run your operation however you see fit. I’m here to make sure you have what you need. And congratulations on the