027. A Brief Call

A notification on his device, accompanied by a chiming sound, interrupted Jalu's reverie. A substantial amount of money had been deposited into his Swiss bank account. His job in America had concluded perfectly.
However, the young man's facial expression remained unchanged. Money was not the reason for his involvement in the profession. He merely sought to rebel against his father, a high-ranking member of Division 96 who had managed to escape the clutches of the Regime.
Jalu Mahawira was the only son of Bayu Adiwira, a dedicated member of the EPCU task force. His early life was marked by loss; his biological mother had run away when he was just a newborn, leaving him to grow up without any memory of her. In her absence, his father’s demanding career further deepened the void, as Bayu’s duties kept him away for long stretches of time. Jalu rarely saw him, and their relationship was more defined by absence than connection.
In this emotional landscape, it was Jalu's stepmother, Yanti Salsabila, who became his anchor. She poured all her love and care into raising him, becoming the only mother figure he had ever known. She was the one who comforted him when he cried, who celebrated his small victories, and who provided the warmth and stability that his life otherwise lacked.
When Jalu discovered that the Patriot Bureau had killed Yanti—torturing her to death in their ruthless hunt for information about Bayu—his world shattered. Grief engulfed him, but it was anger that ultimately took hold, a searing rage directed at the man he believed had abandoned them both. To Jalu, Bayu had chosen Division 96 over Yanti, sacrificing the woman who had taken on the roles of both mother and father in his life.
It took days for Jalu to come to terms with the bitter reality and transform it into a new purpose. The desire for vengeance fueled his existence. He refused to speak to his father and neglected his duties as an EPCU operative in Indonesia. Instead, he resolved to hunt down those who killed his stepmother and dismantle the Regime. To achieve this, he knew he had to establish his influence across various layers of society.
Money had never been a concern for Jalu. So when the Regime auctioned off Bayu’s properties, his first priority was to reclaim the house where he had spent his childhood with his late stepmother. The memories of that place were etched into his mind, along with the secrets it held.
Beneath the third step of the staircase leading to the second floor was a hidden drawer—his private cache, where he had stashed the ID cards, passports, credit cards, and guns linked to his various aliases. Though the house had been stripped of its furniture, the drawer had remained untouched. But as he opened it this time, he found something unexpected inside—a share certificate.
Jalu’s great-grandfather had been a wealthy businessman, with several agribusiness companies consolidated under his holding company, the Banar Group. When Bayu disappeared and Yanti was killed, the Regime quickly moved to seize control of the company, aiming to claim its vast resources.
However, their attempts were legally thwarted by the existence of two key shareholders besides Bayu, effectively halting the takeover. One was Jalu Mahawira, who, intriguingly, had no documented familial ties to either Bayu or Yanti. The other was a Singaporean entrepreneur named Nathan Theo.
Jalu tried to contact Nathan but was only able to reach his secretary. Corporate records showed that Nathan Theo owned twenty-five percent of the company's shares. Perhaps due to the turbulent conditions in Indonesia, the mysterious man, through his secretary, sold all his shares to Jalu. This transaction left Jalu with full control, holding an eighty percent ownership of Banar Group.
Two weeks later, Jalu solidified his ownership of the Banar Group. The twenty percent of Bayu's shares that had been auctioned off by the Regime and purchased by a government official named Supriyatno were swiftly bought back by Jalu at twice the price.
And a week later, Jalu exacted his vengeance—dismembering the man and scattering his remains into the sea. Supriyatno, a member of the Gelombang Pembaharu Party and later a council member in the Penyempurna Regime, was no match for the wrath that awaited him. In the face of Jalu’s fury, he was nothing more than a lamb offering itself to a lion.
Just as Jalu was about to light a cigarette, the device resting on his chest vibrated. He sighed and glanced at the screen. The name Martin Papilaya appeared. Hailing from Maluku and recruited from the Jala Mengkara Detachment, Martin was the first person Jalu had met upon returning to Indonesia.
It was Martin who had filled him in on the situation in his homeland, providing the critical information Jalu needed. A former member of Division 96, Martin was the only one who still kept in touch, the only person Jalu considered a friend.
Martin operated a car repair shop in the Soreang area, a seemingly ordinary façade that served as an effective cover. The shop, cluttered with tools and engine parts, masked the strategic depth of his operations. Like Jalu, he harbored a profound hatred for the Penyempurna Regime.
Their exchanges were infrequent, meticulously timed to evade the relentless surveillance of the Patriot Bureau. Each communication was a carefully orchestrated move in their covert game, a dance of secrecy designed to keep their plans concealed from prying eyes and ears.
"Go and greet your uncle," Martin’s voice crackled through the phone, tinged with the distinct accent of Eastern Indonesia. "I’ve got a guest at the workshop."
That was all Martin needed to convey. To an outsider, it might have seemed like an innocuous comment, but Jalu deciphered the hidden message with ease.
The seemingly casual words carried a deeper significance, a signal wrapped in layers of secrecy. Without a moment’s pause, Jalu returned the cigarette to its pack, the action smooth and deliberate. He moved swiftly inside, his mind already shifting into mission mode.
Moments later, a vibration from his device signaled the arrival of a new message: GPS coordinates flickered on the screen. Jalu's grin widened, sharp and determined. The weariness that had clung to him vanished as if swept away by a gust of wind, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.
He moved with renewed purpose, stepping out of his house with a sense of urgency. The coordinates led to a natural tourist area in Pangalengan, specifically Situ Cukul. There, a high-ranking Regime official was within reach. The hunt was on.