About 2/3rds through Philippine Fever, we meet a new character.  Sonja Tucker is the sister of Harvey, the man found dead on page 1.  She is an ex-Marine, military police.  The two men she meets in this scene are Sam Haine--US Alcohol Tobacco Firearms agent--and Detective Bogie Lorenzano--lead homicide investigator for the Republic of the Philippines.

      They heard voices in the hallway and the clatter of high heels on the institutional linoleum, coming closer. The voices stopped just outside their office door, and a petite secretary poked her head inside.

      “You have an American visitor,” she said, not bothering to clarify whether the visitor was for Bogie or Sam. Distaste was evident in her expression as she withdrew her head.

      A large bosom entered the room half a second before its owner. The woman who entered under full sail was clearly American, clearly a visitor, and clearly not used to being escorted by toy-sized secretaries. She stood just inside the doorway and glowered at Bogie and Sam.

      Sam and Bogie stared back. About five foot ten in her stocking feet (size eleven extra wide), she was a woman of a certain age. It was apparent that she believed decades spent baking in the sun by the pool had added to her charm.

      Perhaps it had. Sam imagined komodo dragons finding themselves greatly attracted to her reptilian epidermis. Her bottle-auburn hair was pulled back into a messy French roll. She wore blue jeans and a denim work shirt, unbuttoned to a level that threatened to release the beasts if she raised either arm above her head. To Sam’s alarm she had a single eyebrow. Fortunately for her, it covered both eyes, providing a protective screen from both sun and rain.

      “The Ambassador sent a note asking you to assist Ms. Tucker,” squeaked the secretary. She darted through the door, dropped several documents with official stamps on Bogie’s desk, skirted the foothills of the woman, and scurried away.

     “This where I pick up his goods?” The woman addressed both men, but when Bogie didn’t respond, she fixed a laser-like glare on Sam. “He don’t speak English?” she asked, indicating Bogie.

     Bogie looked up from the US Embassy letter he was reading and handed it to Sam. Sam glanced at it and said, “Ms. Tucker? Sonja Tucker?”

     Ms. Tucker swelled in a threatening manner. “Did that so-called public servant at the Embassy spell my name wrong? It’s Sone-juhh, with a J, not a Y. That doofus couldn’t find his wang with both hands in broad daylight, if you’ll pardon my French.”

Bogie flicked a quick look at Sam, as if wondering whether he had heard right.

     “I’m not sure why you have come here, Ms. Tucker. This isn’t a lost and found,” said Sam. “NBI headquarters is the equivalent of our FBI back in the States.”

     “I know where I am. I paid the frigging cabbie to get me here, didn’t I? And nearly got robbed in the process.” She turned an alarming shade of reddish-brown as memory rekindled her anger. “Little dip wanted a hunnerd Filipino dollars for a fifteen-minute ride, and I knew it wasn’t worth more than four, five dollars. I clocked him and dropped a five-spot in the front seat. Teach that sorry son of a bachelor not to try takin’ advantage of no American woman.”

     “You can’t assault innocent cabbies, Ms. Tucker,” said Bogie.

     Ms. Tucker swiveled to look at Bogie. “So. It speaks. And English, too.” She appeared to disapprove of Bogie’s bilingual skills. “Is either of you two brain surgeons gonna tell me where I can find my brother’s goods?”

     It was clear to Sam why the Ambassador had scrawled the handwritten note for Sonja. Now she was the NBI’s problem—and by extension, his.

     Bogie rose from his chair and addressed Ms. Tucker formally. “I am sorry for the loss of your brother. You have our sympathy.” He waited to see if she would respond. “We are in the middle of an investigation of his death. We cannot release his personal belongings…”

     “I didn’t fly ten thousand miles crammed into a seat built for a midget to listen to your horsehockey, buster,” Sonja interrupted. “I know my brother’s dead, and I’ll probably miss the sumbitch after a while. Right now I’m trying to find some goods he filched from my office, put 'em back in place before I get canned.”

     Bogie’s face was a mask of politeness as he pulled a list of items from a folder and passed them over to Sonja. “These are the items found on his body and in his hotel room.”

     Sonja worked her way through the lists, lips working as she read to herself. “It’s not there.” She thrust the pages back at Bogie. “Anyways, Harv wouldn’t have left this particular stuff just lyin’ around. Did you check the hotel safe? Or maybe he had a room safe?”

     “His hotel had individual safe deposit boxes. We just received the death certificate, which the hotel requires for us to open his box.”

     She cocked her eyebrow at Bogie contemptuously. “Oh, you hadn’t got around to that as yet? Was it gonna happen in the next decade, or what?” She gave Sam a withering look. “You’re s’posed to be an American cop. Don’t you know your business, either? I’m beginning to see why the Embassy was so wishy-washy about telling me jack.”

     “Ms. Tucker, you are a guest in a foreign country,” said Sam. “You just deliberately insulted the lead investigator looking into your brother’s death…”

     “Hey, you morons can’t take a little honest criticism without gettin’ your thong in a twist, you ought to get the hell outta the kitchen.” She grabbed the investigation folder from Bogie’s desk and turned to go.

     Bogie and Sam leapt after her, Sam grabbing the folder from her hand. “You can’t take that out of here.” He tried to keep hold of her arm, and found that she had massive biceps. She shrugged him off without discernible effort.

     “How about you two geniuses bring it along—as well as the death certificate, if I heard you right—so we can check out that safe deposit box?”

     “Finding your brother’s killer is my primary task, Ms. Tucker. And I also want to fulfill the Ambassador’s request,” said Bogie. “But we will follow police procedure.”

     Sonja snorted and steamed out of the room, Bogie and Sam following in her wake. Sam realized that if they didn’t accompany Sonja, she would disrupt the chain of evidence at the hotel. He looked over to Bogie and could see he had come to a similar conclusion.

     Bogie pulled out his car keys and jogged ahead of Sonja. “We can take my car, Ms. Tucker.”

    “Well, ain’t you the gentleman.” She gave Sam an appraising look and shook her head.