The discovery of the map had injected a renewed sense of urgency into the situation. The location marked on the map was deep within the mountainous region north of their current location, a remote and rugged area accessible only by treacherous mountain roads that snaked through dense forests and clung precariously to steep cliffs. The map itself was remarkably detailed, showing not only the general location of the facility – a cluster of buildings nestled within a hidden valley – but also the surrounding terrain, including intricate networks of trails, winding rivers, hidden ravines, and potential access points. It even marked strategic vantage points and areas of dense vegetation that could offer cover. It was clear that whoever had created the map knew the area intimately, possessing a deep understanding of its topography and its hidden pathways.
The police officers at the safe house immediately contacted their superiors, informing them of the discovery and requesting reinforcements. The news of the map's existence electrified the atmosphere, transforming the tense waiting game into a flurry of activity. A specialized team, trained in mountain warfare, search and rescue operations, and covert infiltration tactics, was dispatched to the area. This wasn't a standard police unit; these officers were equipped with advanced tactical gear, specialized weaponry, and the expertise to navigate the challenging terrain. The plan was to launch a coordinated assault on the facility, a swift and decisive operation aimed at rescuing the captives and apprehending any remaining members of Valderama's network.
Lourdes and Anne, despite their fear and the inherent danger of the mission, insisted on joining the operation. They felt a deep responsibility for the missing vendors, especially Aling Ising, a need to see this through to the end, to witness justice being served and the victims being brought to safety. They had come too far, risked too much, endured too many sleepless nights to turn back now. The police officers, after some initial hesitation and a lengthy discussion with their superiors, agreed to their request, recognizing their valuable contribution to the investigation, their intimate knowledge of the case, and their unwavering determination. They were, in a way, the heart of this operation.
The journey to the mountain region was long and arduous, a grueling trek that tested their physical and mental endurance. They traveled in a convoy of unmarked police vehicles, navigating winding mountain roads that hugged the steep slopes, the vehicles swaying precariously close to the edge of sheer cliffs. The scenery was breathtaking, with lush forests of towering trees, cascading waterfalls that plunged into deep ravines, and panoramic views of the valleys below, shrouded in a morning mist that gave the landscape an ethereal beauty. But the beauty of the landscape did little to ease their anxiety. They knew that danger lurked around every bend, that they could be ambushed at any moment, that Valderama's network might have anticipated their move.
As they approached the general area marked on the map, the terrain became even more rugged and challenging. The paved roads narrowed, crumbling into little more than dirt tracks that were barely wide enough for the vehicles to pass. The vegetation grew thicker, forming a dense canopy that obscured their visibility and created an oppressive atmosphere. They had to abandon the vehicles at a pre-determined rendezvous point and continue on foot, trekking through the dense forest, following the trails marked on the map, their progress slow and deliberate.
The specialized police team, equipped with advanced GPS devices, night-vision goggles, and silenced weapons, took the lead, clearing the path, scouting ahead, and providing security. They moved with a practiced efficiency, their movements fluid and silent, like shadows moving through the trees. Lourdes and Anne followed closely behind, their hearts pounding with anticipation and fear, their senses heightened, every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sending a jolt of adrenaline through them. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the sound of their footsteps, the rustling of their gear, and the chirping of insects.
After several hours of arduous trekking, navigating steep inclines and treacherous terrain, they reached a carefully concealed vantage point overlooking a hidden valley. Nestled within the valley, surrounded by towering trees and rocky cliffs that formed a natural barrier, was the facility marked on the map. It was a large, sprawling compound, enclosed by high walls topped with barbed wire, with several buildings scattered within, some appearing to be living quarters, others resembling warehouses or workshops. It was clear that this was not just a simple holding place; it was a well-fortified and heavily guarded facility, designed to keep people in and unwanted visitors out.
The police team immediately began to formulate a plan of attack, studying the layout of the facility through high-powered binoculars and analyzing aerial photographs. They identified potential entry points, escape routes, and areas of vulnerability. They also established secure communication with other units in the area, coordinating their movements and ensuring a synchronized and coordinated assault. The operation was meticulously planned, every detail carefully considered, every contingency accounted for.
Lourdes and Anne watched the preparations with a mixture of awe and apprehension, the scale of the operation sinking in. They had never witnessed anything like this before, the meticulous planning, the precise execution, the sheer scale of the operation. It was a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation, the danger they were all in, and the powerful forces they were up against.
As the sun began to set, casting long, dramatic shadows across the valley, painting the sky in hues of orange, red, and purple, the police team launched their assault. They moved swiftly and silently, approaching the facility from multiple directions, utilizing the terrain to their advantage. A small team of officers, equipped with specialized cutting tools, breached the outer perimeter, silently cutting through the barbed wire and disabling the security cameras, creating a breach for the main assault force. Other teams moved in to secure the surrounding area, establishing a perimeter and preventing any escape or reinforcement.
Lourdes and Anne stayed back at the vantage point, positioned behind a large rock formation, watching the operation unfold from a distance, their view partially obscured by the trees. They could hear the muffled sounds of gunfire echoing through the valley, the shouts of the officers, the cries… but the cries were not of captives being freed. They were cries of alarm, of panic, of men in disarray.
The initial breach had gone smoothly, but as the main force entered the compound, they found it… empty. The buildings were deserted, the living quarters stripped bare, the workshops devoid of any equipment. There was no sign of the missing vendors, no trace of any captives. The facility had been abandoned, recently, but thoroughly.
A wave of disbelief washed over Lourdes and Anne. They had been so close, so sure they were about to rescue the missing people. But they had been outmaneuvered, anticipated. Valderama's network had been one step ahead of them, evacuating the facility before the police could arrive.
The police officers searched the compound thoroughly, finding only remnants of a hasty departure: scattered personal belongings, discarded equipment, and the lingering smell of disinfectant, the same sterile scent that had haunted Lourdes since their visit to the stall in Santa Cruz. It was as if they had walked into a ghost town, a scene frozen in time, a mocking reminder of their failure.
Then, a radio crackled to life. It was one of the officers who had been securing the perimeter. His voice was strained, his tone urgent. "We've found something… a vehicle. Abandoned, down by the river. And… there's been a fire."
A small team rushed to the riverbank, their flashlights illuminating the scene. A vehicle, a dark van similar to the one Ka Berto had described, was partially submerged in the river, its front end charred by fire. The fire had clearly been set deliberately, an attempt to destroy any evidence.
But it wasn't just the van. Scattered around the riverbank were signs of a struggle: broken branches, disturbed earth, and… blood. Not large quantities, but enough to indicate that someone had been injured, perhaps seriously.
The realization hit Lourdes like a punch to the gut. They hadn't just missed them; they had arrived too late. Something had happened here, something violent. The missing vendors were gone, and the evidence suggested they hadn't left willingly.
The initial hope and anticipation had turned to bitter disappointment, replaced by a gnawing fear. They were back to square one, with even fewer leads than before. Valderama's network had anticipated their every move, erasing their tracks, leaving them in the dark. The map, which had initially seemed like a beacon of hope, now felt like a cruel deception, a carefully orchestrated diversion. They had walked right into a trap, a meticulously planned dead end.
As the officers began the grim task of collecting evidence and securing the scene, a chilling realization dawned on Lourdes. They hadn't heard from Mr. Reyes since the operation had begun. They tried contacting him on the burner phone, but there was no answer. They tried contacting his editor, but they were met with a wall of silence, a palpable sense of fear.
Then, one of the officers approached them, his face grave. He held a small, crumpled piece of paper in his hand. "We found this near the van," he said, his voice low.
Lourdes took the paper, her hands trembling. It was a note, written in Tagalog, the handwriting familiar. It was Mr. Reyes's.
"Huli na ang lahat. Wala nang babalikan." (Everything is too late. There's no turning back.)
A wave of nausea washed over Lourdes. The message was clear. Mr. Reyes was gone. He had been extinguished like a flame.
As Lourdes stared at the note, a sudden gust of wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it a faint, almost imperceptible sound.