Chapter 535: Vengeance For the Fallen
The sun was already low in the sky by the time Lucban’s boots touched Philippine soil again.
He and his men had returned in silence, spirits lifted by the agreement they had made in Japan. From their perspective, they had coerced the Japanese into a signing a deal that was favorable towards them.
The vague language used granted them an excuse to renege on the deal after the Americans had been driven from their shores.
If the Japanese wanted to use this agreement as a way to incorporate the Philippines into their domain, they had another thing coming.
The ferry they had used to land was unmarked; one of many ghost ships making their quiet runs in and out of the archipelago under cover of night.
Japanese cargo sat buried beneath crates of dried rice, bundled fish, and rotting fruit; tools of war smuggled in under the guise of peasant commerce.
Lucban had thought his mind would be occupied with the consequences of that handshake; of how the Japanese would react when they realized they had been hoodwinked.
But his thoughts were interrupted prematurely by A young courier who was waiting for them in the jungle clearing where their trucks were hidden.
Barefoot, shaking, his trousers stained with sweat and blood, the boy could barely form words as he thrust a crumpled telegram into Lucban’s hand.
The others gathered around as their commander opened it beneath the orange haze of a kerosene lamp.
The message was brief. The village is gone. Everyone.
No coordinates. No signature. No need for either.