"Carlos," Marisa whispered. "Where's Carlos?"
Bolan shook his head. "Gone," he said.
He started walking, holding Marisa close.
She buried her head in his shoulder and sobbed quietly. He passed through the huge door out into the Manila night. Out in the harbor, a giant freighter drifted behind a laboring tug. A single mournful blast of its horn shattered the night, then left it stiller than before. For once, Bolan didn't mind the thick air, the clinging tropical humidity.
"That's one score settled," he said to the night.