Chapter 23: The Special Investigator’s Raid

7 a.m.

Lee Jun-hyuk opened his eyes.

No, to be precise, he moved his eyes that had been open all along.

He hadn’t slept a wink all night.

The wooden patterns on the ceiling were vividly clear.

Because he had been staring at nothing but them all through the early morning.

“This is the beginning.”

He sat up.

There was no sign of exhaustion.

Instead, his nerves were on edge.

Like a soldier before going out on a mission.

Footsteps sounded.

“Mr. Lee.”

It was Jose.

He held a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Judge Mendoza has arrived.”

“Already?”

“Yes. He’s waiting in the reception room.”

He took the coffee and sipped it.

A bitter taste spread across his tongue.

It felt like his mind was clearing.

“What about the workers?”

“Since dawn, they have been sent out one by one.”

Jose glanced out the window.

“Only Sanchez, myself, and a few guards remain on the farm.”

“Good job.”

He headed toward the reception room.

***

Judge Mendoza sat in his robe, his posture dignified.

“Judge, you arrived early.”

“I should have come before the scheduled time.”

The judge stood.

“Are preparations complete?”

“Yes, everything is as you instructed.”

“Good. Then let’s wait.”

He turned his gaze out the window.

In the distance, a cloud of dust rose.

Several carriages were approaching.

Government officials.

Thirty minutes ahead of schedule.

“It’s starting.”

Lee Jun-hyuk muttered.

“Stay calm.”

The judge placed a hand on his shoulder.

“The law is on our side.”

They stepped outside.

The officials were already getting off the carriages.

There were more than twenty.

“Are you Lee Jun-hyuk?”

A man at the front asked.

A mid-forties Spanish-descendant white man.

His neat suit and sharp eyes left a strong impression.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I am Miguel Santos, Special Investigator from the Governor-General’s Office.”

He showed some documents.

“You’ve checked the warrant, right?”

“Hold on.”

Judge Mendoza stepped forward.

“What did you just say?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you just say Governor-General’s Office?”

The judge’s eyes sharpened.

“When did we become a colony? Yet you still say Governor-General’s Office!”

His voice grew firmer.

“We are now the Government of the Republic of Cuba, not the Spanish Governor-General’s Office.”

“Ah, well… it’s just a habit…”

Santos was flustered.

“That habit is the problem.”

The judge stepped closer.

“Isn’t it proof that you still long for the Spanish colonial days?”

“That’s not true.”

“Then call it correctly. Investigator of the Government of the Republic of Cuba.”

“Yes, Special Investigator Miguel Santos of the Government of the Republic of Cuba.”

Santos reluctantly corrected himself.

His face reddened.

He was already on the back foot from the start.

“By the way, Judge, what brings you here…?”

“I’m here as the legal representative of this farm.”

Judge Mendoza pulled out documents.

“I have the right to participate in the search.”

“Of course… but…”

“Then let’s begin.”

The judge led the way into the farm.

Santos motioned to his subordinates.

The officials entered the farm in unison.

***

Inside the office.

The officials took out documents, opened drawers, and knocked on the walls.

“What exactly are you looking for?”

Judge Mendoza asked.

“Evidence related to the Anti-American Movement.”

“Specifically?”

“Weapons, propaganda materials, financial transaction records…”

Santos answered.

The judge nodded.

“Then don’t touch unrelated items.”

He pointed to the documents on the desk.

“Especially business ledgers or contracts—they are beyond the scope of this warrant.”

“Understood.”

Santos replied, though dissatisfaction showed on his face.

The search continued.

To the warehouse, the lodging, the barn.

The officials ransacked every corner.

But—

“This is strange.”

Santos muttered.

Nothing came up.

Not the ‘something’ he had expected.

“Investigator!”

A subordinate ran in.

“We found something unusual in the warehouse.”

“What is it?”

Santos’s eyes flashed.

“Boxes with Chinese characters on them.”

“Show me.”

They headed quickly to the warehouse.

In a corner, wooden crates were stacked.

Bright red Chinese characters stood out.

“Open them.”

The subordinate hastily opened a crate.

Inside, white powder was revealed.

“This is…”

A smile spread across Santos’s face.

“Opium, isn’t it?”

“Wait.”

Lee Jun-hyuk stepped forward.

“That’s salt.”

“What?”

“Sun-dried salt purchased from the Chinese merchants.”

Lee Jun-hyuk explained calmly.

“Salt?”

Santos sneered.

“White powder from China?”

“See for yourself.”

Judge Mendoza stepped forward.

He took a pinch and put it on his tongue.

After a moment, he nodded.

“It’s salt.”

Santos’s face reddened.

“Still, it needs to be analyzed by the prosecutor…”

His voice trembled.

He was sure it was opium.

“Of course.”

Lee Jun-hyuk responded calmly.

“If you want, you can open all the boxes.”

He pointed to the crates.

“Just be aware that if the salt spills, the government will have to compensate for the damage.”

“A reasonable request.”

Judge Mendoza added.

“If you damage property without evidence, compensation is natural.”

He looked Santos squarely.

“You don’t still think you can act freely like in the Governor-General’s Office days, do you?”

Santos gritted his teeth.

He clenched his fists, then relaxed them.

It was clear he had been pressured by someone.

“Continue the search.”

The sharp command was issued.

The subordinates intensified their efforts, as if hunting for treasure.

Then—

“Investigator!”

An official rushed out of the office.

“We found something!”

“Found what?”

Santos’s face lit up.

“There were strange documents in the safe.”

He hurried into the office.

Lee Jun-hyuk and Judge Mendoza followed.

On the desk lay a brown envelope.

“What is this?”

Santos picked up the envelope.

The seal was already broken.

He pulled out a letter.

Written in Spanish.

Santos’s eyes grew wide.

“This is…”

His voice trembled.

This time, with excitement.

“An application for funding support for the Anti-American Movement!”

He held up the letter.

“The sender is the Cuban Liberation Front.”

“Wait a moment.”

Lee Jun-hyuk reached out.

He took the letter and examined it closely.

Something was off.

The paper was too clean.

“It’s brand new.”

The ink was problematic too.

Some parts were not fully dry.

“This is a forgery.”

“What did you say?”

Santos grabbed the letter.

“This letter was written only a few days ago.”

Lee Jun-hyuk pointed out.

“The paper is new, and the ink is still wet.”

“Nonsense!”

“Take a look yourself.”

Judge Mendoza took the letter.

With experienced eyes, he examined it thoroughly.

He touched the paper, smelled it, held it to the light.

“This is definitely strange.”

The judge muttered.

“The paper quality looks recent, and the ink color is…”

“Preposterous!”

Santos shouted.

“It’s true that documents related to anti-government activities have been found!”

“We have to verify if it’s true or not.”

The judge said calmly.

“The court will officially appraise it.”

He raised the letter.

“And if it’s proven a forgery…”

His gaze turned cold.

“You will all face the judgment of the law.”

At that moment, commotion was heard outside.

Voices and the sounds of carriages.

“What’s going on?”

Santos, irritated, went outside.

At the farm entrance.

Carriages arrived in a line.

One, two, five of them.

“Chinese?”

The people getting out were Chinese.

There were dozens.

An elderly man stood at the front.

Chairman Wang Xiaoming.

“What is the matter?”

Lee Jun-hyuk approached.

“Our alliance says they were subjected to an unfair search, so we came.”

Chairman Wang replied.

“We want to testify as witnesses.”

“Witnesses?”

Santos was flustered.

This was unexpected—he had not anticipated the Chinese merchants to show up en masse.

“Look at this.”

Zhen Hao stepped forward.

He held a bundle of documents.

“These boxes contain sun-dried salt sold by our Chinese Merchants’ Association.”

He spread the papers out.

“There are contracts and receipts.”

Clear evidence.

Dates, quantities, amounts, even stamps—everything perfect.

“And look at this as well.”

Chairman Wang produced another document.

“It’s the record of transactions between Mr. Lee and us.”

It was a thick ledger.

“All perfectly legal businesses.”

Santos’s face turned pale.

He was cornered.

The suspicion of opium turned out to be salt, and the evidence was flawless.

The anti-American Movement documents were suspected of forgery.

“Investigator.”

Judge Mendoza stepped forward.

“Is this not enough?”

His voice carried authority.

“Any further search would be an abuse of power.”

“But—”

“Or should I contact the President myself?”

The judge took out a small notebook.

“I happen to have an appointment with President Menocal this afternoon.”

He flipped the page.

“President Menocal would not tolerate such archaic tyranny.”

Santos hesitated.

The influence of Judge Mendoza—someone who could meet the president directly—was intimidating.

“I will withdraw.”

Santos admitted defeat.

“But I will keep these documents.”

He held up the anti-American Movement letter.

“Fine.”

The judge nodded.

“But write a receipt.”

He handed over paper and pen.

Santos gritted his teeth and signed.

His hand trembled.

Santos and his subordinates left the farm.

Watching the carriages disappear in a cloud of dust, Lee Jun-hyuk let out a long breath.

The first crisis was overcome.

“Thank you, Chairman Wang.”

Lee Jun-hyuk bowed deeply to the Chinese merchants.

Without them, it would have been difficult to survive today’s crisis.

“We are an alliance, aren’t we?”

Wang Xiaoming smiled warmly with his wrinkled face.

But his eyes remained sharp.

“But is that letter really fake?”

“I did not write it.”

Lee Jun-hyuk answered cautiously.

It was obvious someone had deliberately planted the trap, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions prematurely.

“Someone seems to have put it there intentionally.”

“Hmm.”

Judge Mendoza stroked his chin thoughtfully.

His decades of courtroom experience spoke volumes.

“Escobar’s scheme, no doubt. A plan to trap you and seize the farm.”

“Likely.”

“But too clumsy.”

The judge shook his head disappointedly.

Like a teacher watching a student’s careless homework.

“The paper is new, the ink still wet—that’s supposed to be proof? I can see right through it.”

Zhen Hao chimed in.

“Seems hastily prepared. Probably because Mr. Lee’s return to Cuba was known, and they rushed to fabricate it.”

“Or they underestimated us.”

Judge Mendoza’s expression hardened.

His voice carried years of accumulated anger.

“They thought just one Asian would be easy to implicate. Even with flimsy evidence, racial prejudice would be enough to convince some.”

The group moved back to the reception room.

Jose carefully prepared tea, especially Chinese tea for Chairman Wang.

The subtle aroma filled the room, gradually easing the tense atmosphere.

“What will you do now?”

Chairman Wang asked, holding his cup.

As a seasoned merchant, he was already anticipating what lay ahead.

“Escobar won’t give up so easily.”

“That’s right.”

Lee Jun-hyuk took a sip of tea, gathering his thoughts.

The hot tea soothing his throat cleared his mind further.

“Today is just the beginning. They will surely prepare other moves.”

“What will they bring next time?”

Zhen Hao asked with a worried expression.

For the young man, such power struggles were still unfamiliar and frightening.

“More sophisticated traps, I expect.”

Judge Mendoza answered calmly.

His voice bore the weight of countless courtroom battles.

“But we won’t just stand still. The law is on the side of justice, and justice always prevails.”

He looked at Lee Jun-hyuk.

His eyes beneath deep wrinkles were trustworthy.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Yes.”

Lee Jun-hyuk nodded.

He had already been thinking about the next move.

“Now it’s time for us to take the initiative. If we keep being on the defensive, eventually, we will lose.”

“How?”

“I heard Escobar’s health is deteriorating.”

Lee Jun-hyuk’s eyes gleamed sharply.

Like a predator spotting its prey’s weakness.

“He has heart problems and is taking nitroglycerin. If stressed, it could be dangerous.”

“So?”

“We apply legal pressure.”

He began a detailed explanation.

His voice was calm but filled with determination.

“Escobar can’t be clean. He’s ruled the Cuban sugar market for 30 years, and there must be countless illegal activities—tax evasion, worker exploitation, illegal trades, and more. If we look, we will find his weaknesses.”

“Do we have evidence?”

“We need to find that evidence now.”

Lee Jun-hyuk smiled meaningfully.

Confidence filled that smile.

“We have excellent informants.”

He gestured at Jose.

Jose nodded and went out to fetch Sanchez.

Moments later, Sanchez entered the reception room.

The once arrogant farm owner was gone, replaced by a face hardened with tension.

He looked around anxiously.

“May I speak?”

“Please, have a seat.”

Lee Jun-hyuk gently indicated a chair.

His tone was not threatening but cooperative.

“Tell us everything you know about Escobar. Everything.”

Sanchez glanced around.

Judge Mendoza, Chairman Wang, Zhen Hao—all watched him intently.

He swallowed hard and spoke resolutely.

“Understood. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

He took a deep breath.

There was no turning back now.

“Escobar is a legitimate businessman on the surface. Cuba’s largest Sugar King and close friends with government officials.”

“On the surface?”

“In reality, he commits all kinds of crimes.”

Sanchez lowered his voice.

As if afraid the walls had ears.

“Tax issues are especially severe. Just what I’ve witnessed…”

“Please be specific.”

“He reports only half the actual production.”

He began counting on trembling fingers.

Each one was a serious crime.

“The rest becomes unreported money. He uses it to bribe politicians, remove competitors, and buy more farms.”

“Evidence?”

“I saw it myself.”

Sanchez’s eyes seemed to drift into the past.

Five years ago, when he was still on par with Escobar.

“Five years ago, during a large deal with Escobar, he drunkenly showed me the real ledger by mistake. The real income was more than double the reported amount.”

“Does that ledger still exist?”

“Definitely.”

Sanchez spoke confidently.

He knew Escobar’s character better than anyone.

“Escobar records everything. And he never disposes of those records. He uses them later for blackmail.”

Judge Mendoza leaned forward, intrigued.

“Can we get that ledger?”

“It won’t be easy.”

Sanchez shook his head with a troubled expression.

Sweat formed on his forehead.

“It’s kept in his mansion’s safe in Havana, which is heavily guarded. The safe is state-of-the-art.”

“Any other way?”

“A mole is needed.”

Sanchez lowered his voice.

“Someone close to Escobar who knows the safe’s secret code.”

The judge smiled meaningfully.

“If such a person exists, they are already on our side.”

“What?”

Everyone stared at the judge in disbelief.

“Leonardo Vasquez. He met with Lee Jun-hyuk and me in the office.”

“Leonardo?”

Sanchez looked incredulous.

“Really…?”

“We have already promised cooperation.”

The judge continued.

“Upon hearing that Escobar was incapacitated by heart paralysis, he rushed to the hospital, but the situation was already decided. He is preparing a new future.”

Lee Jun-hyuk nodded.

He understood Leonardo’s anxiety and despair when they met at the hospital.

“Then the documents in the safe…”

“He will cooperate.”

The judge was certain.

“But we must be cautious. Escobar is not finished yet.”

Chairman Wang asked anxiously.

“What is Escobar’s condition?”

“Critical. He is unconscious.”

The judge sighed.

“But his organization is still active. Someone will try to seize his position.”

“So that’s why Leonardo acted first.”

Lee Jun-hyuk understood.

“A wise choice. The one who moves quickly during a power vacuum wins.”

Just then.

Bang!

The door burst open.

Carlos burst in, panting.

“Mr. Lee! There’s big trouble!”

“Calm down and tell me. What happened?”

“Escobar’s side is holding a press conference this afternoon!”

“A press conference?”

Judge Mendoza frowned.

“In Escobar’s incapacitated state, who would hold it?”

“His aides. They say they represent Escobar’s will.”

Carlos caught his breath and spoke.

“The content is about stopping the Asian invasion of Cuba. That Mr. Lee is buying farms illegally with illicit funds and colluding with the Chinese merchants to threaten the Cuban economy.”

“Ridiculous!”

Chairman Wang slammed his fist on the table.

“What did we do wrong? We run legitimate businesses, pay taxes, and create jobs!”

“Expected.”

Judge Mendoza said calmly.

“When Escobar falls, his subordinates continue the plan. Leonardo likely had no knowledge of this.”

“That’s not the point.”

Lee Jun-hyuk said firmly.

“If a public relations war has started, we must respond.”

“How?”

“Head-on confrontation.”

He looked around.

“I will hold a press conference tonight.”

“Is that wise?”

Zhen Hao showed concern.

“It might only stir up rumors…”

“Silence means acceptance.”

Lee Jun-hyuk’s voice was resolute.

“We must tell the truth first.”

Judge Mendoza nodded.

“That’s right. And we must contact Leonardo too. He can provide information about Escobar’s internal situation.”

“I will help.”

Chairman Wang stood.

“The entire Chinese Merchants’ Association will declare support for Mr. Lee.”

“And publicly reveal today’s unjust search and the forged letter story.”

The judge added.

“Everything about the government’s unfair search and fabricated letters.”

Preparation began.

Carlos contacted newspapers.

The press conference would be held at Santa Rosa Plantation at 6 p.m.

Jose tidied the farm.

They had to present a clean and organized appearance.