𝐿𝒶 𝒮𝑜𝓂𝒷𝓇𝒶 𝒹𝑒 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓁𝒶 𝐼𝐼: 𝒞𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝒹𝑒 𝒮𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓇𝑒
"When justice fades, the shadows return."
1995 – The War After the Silence
In the aftermath of Manila's criminal collapse, a new war ignites across the South Sea. When Eduardo Montefalco receives a mysterious call about a rising cartel operating from a hidden airstrip in Santa Rosa, Laguna, he descends into a world of blood-drenched cards, forgotten relics, and global betrayal. Alongside the fearless Maria de los Reyes and the ever-shadowed Juan Cariño Hernández, Eduardo navigates a labyrinth of jungle hideouts, opium casinos in Macau, and haunted memories from Lisboa.
But as shadows lengthen across Asia — from the Cotai Strip to the ruins of old Spanish forts — one truth becomes clear: this isn't just a battle against crime.
This is a war for the soul of a forgotten empire.
Chapter 25 – The Coordinates
"Find the airstrip. They're still flying."
---
December 1995
It was raining in Manila. Again.
Inside a dimly lit safehouse near Sta. Ana, Don Eduardo Montefalco sat alone. The world believed he had vanished after the Manila operation. Most thought he was dead — killed alongside Juan and Maria during the final siege in Intramuros.
But the truth was more complicated.
A knock came at the gate.
He stood up slowly, hand resting on the grip of his old pistol. The gatekeeper passed him a sealed envelope — no return address, no stamp, just his name written in old, cursive ink.
"D. Montefalco"
Inside were three things:
An old sepia-toned photograph of a smiling Chinese-Filipino tycoon standing beside a private plane.
A folded map of Southern Luzon, with a red X near Laguna.
A cryptic note, handwritten in sharp strokes:
> "Find the airstrip. They're still flying."
Eduardo exhaled. His pulse slowed. He'd seen that man before — at a meeting in Binondo years ago. The Zhao Family Syndicate.
He pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket, lit it, and looked out the window.
"Looks like the game isn't over yet," he muttered.
---
The Drive South
The next morning, Eduardo fired up his old Mercedes-Benz and drove south. The highways out of Manila had changed. More checkpoints. More bribes. And more shadows.
He reached Laguna by dusk, where the rain had turned the rice fields into lakes of silver and mud.
Locals spoke in whispers about "midnight cargo planes" and strange men in suits moving through Santa Rosa after dark.
Eduardo followed the coordinates, weaving through narrow roads until he reached a fenced property lined with banana trees and makeshift guard posts.
Beyond the tall grass, hidden by old camo netting, was a runway — still operational. Trucks came and went. Crates were unloaded. The air stank of oil and secrecy.
He spotted men loading casino chips, vials of blue-tinted powder, and sleek black suitcases into the cargo bay of a twin-engine jet.
Eduardo clenched his fist.
"So this is where they moved after Manila fell…"
This wasn't just a cartel. It was a machine — and it was still running.
---
A Faint Glimmer
Back in his car, Eduardo reviewed the photo again. The man in it — he wasn't just a tycoon. He was a front. A puppet.
The real player, Eduardo suspected, was somewhere deeper. Maybe even farther than Luzon.
And if these flights were headed south... or west...
He would need answers. And soon.
But for now, one thing was certain.
The war had only moved. Not ended.