Location: Metro Manila, inside The Crimson Lantern Casino Tower
Time: December 1995, 10:46 PM
High above the roaring sounds of slot machines and the synthetic jazz playing in the lobby, the penthouse suite of the Crimson Lantern Casino was locked in a tense silence. Velvet drapes hid the view of the Manila skyline. Crystal chandeliers glimmered above a long mahogany table.
Sitting around that table were the Zhao syndicate's top brass — Chinese-Filipino casino lords, armed investors from East Asia, and a few silent men in gray suits with no visible affiliations.
Don Eduardo Montefalco, dressed as a mid-level smuggler from Cebu, sat at the far end, posing as a buyer. Catalina Zhou, now wearing a red qipao and black gloves, posed as his translator and companion.
"They're here for a currency laundering deal," she whispered. "They need to move over ten million euros from Europe into the Macau casino system."
Eduardo nodded, scanning the room.
Then he saw him.
Victor Liang — the King of Spades. Entering the room with that same cold precision Catalina described. Tall, sharply dressed, and flanked by two bodyguards in white suits with dragon pins.
Liang spoke in calm Mandarin, which Catalina translated on the fly.
"He says: 'Gentlemen, tonight you are not investors. You are believers. This tower is the altar. The cards are holy. And blood... is our baptism.'"
Eduardo stiffened. He didn't like metaphors in crime.
Then the suitcase was placed on the table.
Sleek. Black. Fingerprint-locked.
Catalina leaned in. "That's the euros. Untraceable. If we can intercept it, Juan can cripple their funds."
Eduardo nodded. "We'll need a diversion."
Just then, a buzz from Harry Williams in the earpiece:
> "We're in. James is covering the north stairwell. I've got eyes on the cameras. You've got five minutes before Liang's team scans the room for bugs."
Eduardo whispered back. "Ready the lights."
As the deal began — coded phrases, money scanning devices, quiet nods — Eduardo quietly slid a microchip under the table. A tracer.
But then... something went wrong.
From the hallway: a sudden gunshot. Screams. The door bursts open.
A man stumbles in — bloodied, holding a radio.
"They've breached the basement! The Southern team's been hit!"
Liang snapped up. "Secure the suitcase! Shut the floors!"
But it was too late.
Tommy Brown, wearing a staff uniform, burst through the side elevator with a smoke canister. He tossed it.
BOOM. Blinding white smoke filled the room.
Gunshots erupted.
Eduardo grabbed the suitcase and Catalina by the wrist. "We move now!"
They bolted through the side hall as James provided sniper cover from a nearby rooftop — taking out a bodyguard with a clean shot through the penthouse glass.
They reached the back service stairwell. Below, Harry's voice came in.
> "Go left at the boiler exit. There's a laundry chute. Leads to the underground parking. Van's waiting."
As they descended, Eduardo looked at Catalina.
"You alright?"
"I've been through worse in Macau," she said, reloading a small pistol. "But I want Liang to feel this loss. Every euro."
They reached the van. Tommy was behind the wheel. "Let's roll!"
As they drove off into the Manila night, a message came through on Eduardo's pager.
"The next card has turned. Macau awaits. – JCH"
He smiled.
"Juan's already playing the next hand."