Blotting Paper: A story of a drug Kingpin
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Hi all, I decided to start this story. Do give your feedbacks and inputs. I can edit into it.
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I know what you are wondering; who am I? Let's start with who I was. I was what you are when you look into a mirror right now; I was you. And if you looked hard enough, I promise you'll see the same amout of disbelief like I had at what you'll be able to accomplish on your own. If you even think you needed a doctorate in Physics, a bank vault full of money, or some special training from the government to be someone significant, you cannot be more wrong.
Chapter 1
Because for the longest time, it wasn't always this way. For the first half of my life, I have been running someone else's race. Going to school, getting good grades, making it to Junior College, and I wasn't very good at it. I was someone else the government of Singapore wanted me to be; a product of the system. It seemed that if I wasn't good at Math and Science, I was stupid. In the end, I had to pursue an education in the United States.
September 2012, New York
The house party was typical; booze, college kids, underage college kids, and marijuana. Everything that I have questioned for the past 20 years of my life seemed to ended with my stay in the United States. The first time I did Marijuana in the United States, it made me question the morality my actions. The very line of right and wrong seemed to have blurred with the buzz of the THC, an active chemical in marijuana. I was well educated in Singapore; "say No to Drugs", say "No to underage sex", "Americans are too liberal", "Do not corrupt the Asian values". All these things were constantly reinforced by the Singapore government. Even in my time as a police officer, everything I learnt about drugs and narcotics was fed by the government.
A few Months Back,
One day a friend visited from Los Angeles, a fellow Singaporean, Jay. He was on his Spring Break and decided to travel to the East Coast to visit. We drank, we talked, and then he brought up the topic on narcotics.
"Whoah Jay, you know it's wrong right. Marijuana, MDMA, what? You're scaring me right now."
"I knew you would say that L, but before you judge me, you should do your own research into it and determine which is right and wrong"
We went on talking, and after he left, I hit my computer. Research paper after research paper all the way into the morning. In a single night, I became an expert on marijuana, LSD, Cocaine, and MDMA. I immediately knew which were bad. Suddenly I felt I was lied to my entire life; I was taught that all drugs were addictive, causes mental problems, causes broken families etc etc. Right in front of my eyes were medical reports on the chemistry of marijuana and its actual recorded historical use that dated back to 1000BC. I began to formulate my own judgement to good and bad drugs as Jay suggested. Cocaine, Heroin, MDMA, Meth, they are all bad; I knew right from the research papers. One thing was clear: I had to get myself some Weed, and LSD, and I mean to try it.
At present, September 2012, New York.
All the months of partying, getting to know new people, building networks, exchanging contacts finally paid off. I was living the life. Here I was, at a party of college students from prestigious universities, and it was just one of the many parties I go to, and get invited to. It made me realize how hypocritical the whole world was. All we did the whole night was booze and getting stoned from marijuana. Addictive? Definitely not. You'll always hear someone having sex in the bathroom, or see a couple making out by the window. Cocaine, Marijuana, MDMA, name it. There'll always be somebody in the room who sells it. Ivy League university student by day, drug dealer by night, nothing new. The modulus operandi was always the same; sell to first hand contacts, exchange nothing more than your number, and name. Basic rule of thumb is: don't ask questions. The less you know, the better; just pay, Shut the fuck up, and enjoy.
"L, come meet my friend, David. David, L, L, David." Steven gestured with a Bud Light in his hand. Introduction was short, chill, and simple. David was a Korean American. A little taller than me, he wore a beanie, and had that typical swag about him when he talked. Smart dude, Economics major. We shook hands, made small talk. If there's one thing unique about David, it was that he was a drug dealer part time.
"Steven's been telling me all about you, how he gets his stuff from you. He shares it with me sometimes, but I pay him for a few grams of marijuana that he gets from you. Good stuff, the sativa buzz was light, and I didn't feel heavy from the indica cannabinoids."
"I'm glad you like it, L. You certainly know your stuff. Take my number xxxxxxxx, just let me know if you need more. You know I only sell to real enthusiasts who know the nitty gritty details of the bud, instead of wannabes who just want a smoke"
"Cool, thanks, you know what; Cheers. I'm actually looking for LSD, do you know where I can get some of those?"
"Try Silk Road"
Silk Road back then was the eBay and Amazon of the drug dealers. You use a secure program called TOR, log in, it directs you to an even deeper part of the web, and you key in the website Silk Road url and there you go. Money is exchanged through an online currency called Bitcoins which you have to pre-purchase beforehand. It's simple: you search your drug, see the dealers and their country of shipping (usually Canada), and then read the reviews and ratings about them from other buyers, and pay. Scammers and bad "products" are usually revealed through the reviews. You can buy anything you want on it, from Cocaine, to crystal Meth. Dealers receive their Bitcoins, they ship their product to you within 7 days in the most ingenious methods. It could be a bag of Godiva chocolates addressed to you as the "sweetheart", or a hollowed-out candle; it could be anything.
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It didn't take long for me to start hitting the keypads on my computer after I got home. Silk Road? The eBay of the dark underworld into any narcotics? Sounds a little too good to be true. Whatever it is, I had to give it a shot. I went on Reddit and read so information about Silk Road that I was beginning to get a clearer picture of how it works. Whatever, lets try it.
"Lets see. BlueViolet99, most trusted Dealer for LSD, 5 stars for quality.. Hmm. Lets try it."
10 hits, $100 USD equivalent. So I waited for the mail. It came after 4 days, talk about speed. I opened the package; in it was a brand new wallet of some brand I never heard of before. There was even a card addressed to me wishing me and my family a Happy Birthday. I was touched. Hold on, was I scammed? It didn't take me long to realize that it was all part of the stealth act. Within the wallet was a strip of Blotting Paper, about the size of a name card. There were 10 squares, I suppose thats where I rip it off and eat it. Who cares, I felt like I was a hippie now in the 60s in the revolution of sex and counterculture. More importantly, I knew the science behind it - Im a science student. Organic chemistry is my life.
"Vivian, you gotta come over to my apartment tonight." Vivian was someone who is in that special zone where we like doing stuff together, drunk or sober. She was Asian, had long black hair with a slight curl. Nothing out of the ordinary if you see her on the streets. She majored in Art, and was a fellow pot smoker. According to her, smoking pot gives her the creative surge. She came, we talked, got relaxed and put a blot in our mouth.
After 20mins we were still talking. I knew it. It was a fake. There goes a 100 dollars, completely unrefundable. "Wasn't that where Annabelle met that White dude who said she - whoa, i think i just saw my fingers distort"
Vivian was laughing so hard and she said "I swear I saw the chairs move in the painting!"
Ok it was real. We felt connected to universe. I had all the answers, life, death. I found a way to fit 300 cows in a room, did that make any sense? Amazing, we lay down and rubbed against each other looking at the ceiling. Suddenly her hair felt so soft, like black mush mellows that I had to have it all over my face. She kept put her hands in my pocket and kept swirling it around and said it felt like the depths of eternity.
"If pockets were deep enough, it is possible to reach in and pull out anything you want.."
And I just thought to myself, that is so true.. Wow, the world started making sense now.. We just wanted to cuddle and feel the universe.
There we were on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly we didn't feel like talking anymore. The whole feeling of being in harmony with everything else around was just overwhelming. Although I remembered dimming the lights down, the whole place seemed to light up with as if someone spiritual was in the room. I felt transcendent. It was unlike Marijuana, where you either stone in a couch locked state, or get filled with creative energy and find everything around you funny. This time, it was pure imagination.
The acid "trip" intensified as the minutes went by. Out of the blue Vivian started counting while lying against my chest with my arm inside her shirt.
"One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six.." and on she went counting. I kept my silence and smiled at the ceiling where I could see rotating tiles switching positions like those old school tile games, where you had to move tiles to form a picture, except it was much more transcendent and interesting now. I knew we were losing track of time, thats why Vivian started counting. Even with marijuana, depending on the "trip", time distortion is a typical occurrence, where you feel like you've slowed down time to a crawl. The clock seemed to be stuck forever at 9:57pm. Was there something wrong with the clock? I could swear I knew we were tripping for at least 15 to 20minutes, but why is the clock indicating that only 2minutes had passed? Relax, I gotta relax. I let this new energy take me and told my consciousness "Now, take me places!"
My fingers were so sensitive, I didn't realize I was gently kneading Vivian's belly and her new found sensitivity seemed to have set in as well. Her arms were now wrapped back around my neck as she pulled my face down to feel my breath on her neck. Whatever sensation sex typically held when sober, this right now was at least heightened exponentially. I wasn't horny, but I really in all honesty wanted to take in the texture of her skin as it glided against mine. I wanted to achieve a spiritual connection with Vivian where we could be one in spirit and mind. We slipped out of our clothes slowly and continued our skin to skin bonding rubbing my chest against her breasts. I needed to smell more of her breast; I don't know why, but I just wanted to take in every scent her breast gave out. I could feel the molecules around her and her skin respirating and hear it in subtle hisses. I moaned. She moaned. Then as we glided against each other, the bedsheets crinkled and wrinkled. I saw an ocean on the bed! Clean to the seabed, and wavy on the surface. I was on top of Vivian, and she was my boat. We were swimming. It was the most amazing feeling ever achieved. I had to make love to her on the sea surface. We couldn't sink; apart from her warm skin, I could feel and hear the waves all around as we were love making. I was inside her, thrusting in slowly and pulling out. Were we moving? Now I know where the phrase "sex is the motion of the ocean" came from. It was a revelation, and it made me happy knowing we were making love to the motion of the ocean waves.
Almost there. I felt a surge inside; it was so sensitive that I could feel my semen flowing through every vein and loaded into the barrel. Finally I came. Jet after jet of semen came bursting out and made their run to freedom inside her pussy. She started moaning and gasping.
"I can feel it. I can feel everything being shot inside. I can feel it clinging on to my walls. L, I feel your sperm swimming!"
I know she wasn't lying. She wasn't alone in that feeling. I could feel a part of myself inside her even though it left my body. It wasn't an intense sex, but it was in every way a spiritual connection where all life and the universe was in harmony achieved through our bodies. And it was also a new revelation: sex on LSD was the best.
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Chapter 2 - The Magic Dragon
I was an enthusiast. Ever since I did Marijuana, it was a life altering experience. A man can call himself a lot of things, social smoker, social drinker etc. The truth is, I don't buy that bullshit. A smoker is a smoker, period. However being an enthusiast is different. Ever since I experienced this new found freedom, I had to know more. The US had its own fan clubs dedicated to Marijuana, LSD, and they were huge. Every bud I smoked, I knew its content, right down to its name. Almost every college kid who does Marijuana here know what they are getting. We talk about it at parties, and nobody is clueless.
Marijuana is a general term, it is broken down into a Sativa, and an Indica. From there, there are thousands of strains (think of it as species). It could be a Sativa (characterized by a head buzz, creativity, energy, giggling ), it could be an Indica (characterized by time distortion, couch locking, body numbing). Certain people liked different things, and every time you approach a dealer, you just have to tell him your preference, maybe a Sativa dominant strain. He'll give you the name of the strain he has in stock, you'll go online and check the data bases. If you like the reviews and the content breakdown, you'll buy it. Thats the way it works in the US: You tell him what you want, he quotes his stock and his price, tell him when/where to meet, you pay for it, he gives you what you want. People usually buy a gram at a time. Nobody in school wants to hold a large amount because it is a felony. The unspoken rule is: Let the dealers deal with the law. Even if he rats you out to the cops, the cops won't even bother about you - they go after the dealers, and the kingpins. Possession laws in New York are 25grams, and a $100 fine if police catch you with for the first time. Who the hell carries 25grams ? Even for home consumption, 25 grams is a lot.
I can't help it. I used to be a Police Officer in SPF, so how the drug network runs in the US really intrigues me. The ironic truth is, most dealers don't even know their dealers. It's an intricate network that stretches all the way to Columbia, Canada and Mexico, and needless to say, run by cartels. These are the guys the DEA (Drug Enforcement Administration) are interested in. In University grounds, the student dealers buy just enough from their sources to sell to their first hand contacts. They generally avoid using Smart Phones - most I've seen use analog dumb phones. There isn't 1 big dealer; there's a dealer, another dealer, and another, each with their own network who are completely unrelated, and from different sources. Most don't even know each other. Contrary to what movies portray, these people are non-violent, and non-aggresive especially the Marijuana dealers. Geeky looking, long hair like Jonas Brothers, wears glasses, Honor roll students, typically spends most of his time in the library studying. Some are fat as fuck like Seth Rogan, some are scrawny looking who look like they can get blown away by the wind. They probably even know more games than you.
Chapter 2 (Epiphany)
Somehow the game changed with the discovery of Silk Road. I don't need to go and meet someone deep inside GAP, H&M, or a Clothing Store to do the exchange. I didn't need to risk showing my face anymore. Simple, easy of use, and most of all, anonymous. I didn't care if DEA found a way to hack into Silk Road and extract its database. I bought small, and even if they got to my house, it'll be long gone. Dealers were comfortable too; they could sell to anyone now, and people could rate their services and product quality. Everyone was happy with the new system. Needless to say, this created a new problem for the law enforcers, but more on that later.
Of Rainbows and Magic Dragons
Vivian and I knew this was the shit. Its no wonder the hippie culture of the 60s involved the greatest social revolution in the US. It brought about an explosion of expression and art forms; scientists were using it and testing it in military applications, doctors saw it as a treatment from headaches, to anxiety - everyone was in on the action. It had a reason to be big, and I knew why now.
The 10 tabs I bought from Silk Road soon ran out, not by my own consumption, but I gave half of it to Vivian who wanted it for creativity and inspiration. I got to admit, her ideas were pretty good. She wasn't the first art student I know. I know plenty of Art and Music student all around. Singapore is probably the only place in the world with the highest concentration of engineering students. You can hardly find an engineering student at a social event or a general University event. Apparently Americans would rather pursue hard sciences like Chemistry, and Biology or the Humanities that involved a lot of expression. That's probably why marijuana and LSD are popular among these students.
"L, anyone in the Arts can tell you they would kill for inspiration," quoting Vivian.
She was right. It wasn't long before she started buying stuff from Silk Road, and we would trip together with some friends over the weekends either over smoke, or a Blot. We never mix the two - I told them myself, its a huge unknown and you never know how they may combine in your body to form a poison. Ask me, I should know; HCl in your stomach reacts with an alkene hydrocarbon in the LSD formation. Who's to say how THC and LSD will react together. There was Josh, Coby, Jessica, and Melissa. All of us were enthusiasts in our own right. Whenever I was in doubt about the THC content in the Weed that didn't measure up to the dealer's claim, my first reaction is always "Ask Melissa, she would know." For the record, Melissa was Singaporean; ironic isn't it. Soon, instead of talking in-terms of THC and cannabinoids percentages, we were talking in micrograms. 150ug, 250ug, 300ug, became our reference to LSD. Some dealers claim to provide 250ug per Blot, but sometimes shit happens, where claim doesn't measure up to reality. Were we addicted? Definitely not. I felt I drank more coffee and tea in the morning even before I came to the US.
Like me, Melissa was completely disillusioned with Singapore. We were typical products of the government, fed with whatever they wanted us to think and behave. Every testimony from government approved sources we grew up on centered around a drug addict who went on a life of crime hurting himself and his family, until he "changed". So stereotypical it was, I can even predict their next storyline, with new faces, new races, and new bloodshed. It was ironic because, as a scientist in training myself, I had to know what that glorified addict was on before - I had to know his circumstances. For the record, from my own studying. Almost everything else under the umbrella of narcotics is bad. The psychedelic content claimed by dealers can only be proved through chemical testing. Psychoactive drugs like Cocaine and MDMA are typically infused and mixed with cheap and dangerous fillers in its form to cause a bigger "high". In Singapore, there was no room for question. Take what the government tells you, and shut up. I remember even doing a test in school about drugs that certified us as "experts" at the end of it.
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Welcome to SG mind ^^
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This is what happen to me when I read the story
: http://youtu.be/6B1V1PFsyho -
-Welcome to SG Mind? whats that supposed to even mean
- Well M the Name, ill make it more interesting for you in the next chapter. I thought by the sex element you'll love it. Afterall Whats a drug kingpin story without the sex
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din read past the 2nd line.
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@fireice, nah you did. you had to because this forum's your baby
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Originally posted by Lindblum:
-Welcome to SG Mind? whats that supposed to even mean
- Well M the Name, ill make it more interesting for you in the next chapter. I thought by the sex element you'll love it. Afterall Whats a drug kingpin story without the sex
Sex Didn't Alarm Me : http://youtu.be/gafCl4OBUio
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And not forget to add, below is the most successful mastermind criminal you ever seen, your punk kid's adventure in drug is nothing compared to him below.
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@M the Name, Thanks for your input. More importantly, thank you for reading. I will definitely make your time worthwhile. Do keep up the criticism
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2V_Xlci20eM
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Chapter 2 continued - Cold Rain Drops
December 2012:
Daylight Savings Time in the United States made me exactly 13 hours behind Singapore. Finding time to communicate with family and friends back home was a challenge. That night in my apartment, I received an Email from Raymond Lee.
From: Raymond Lee ([email protected])
Subject: Long Term Leave
“Dear L., How are you? To update you, I took over from Zamri as TL as of June 2012. We have a few new members in our NPC. Just reminding you that you have to be back before Aug 2013 or you might have to go for retraining again. I look forward to working with you.
Regards,
INSP(V) Raymond"
I was already a Volunteer Special Constabulary (VSC) in SPF. I had been in it since I finished my National Servervice in 2008. It was 9 months of training in everything and we were paid a meagre $3.60 an hour just for allowance. The Police Command wanted to keep it that way to preserve the nobility of the volunteer police officer. We were thrown right into the frontlines to complement the Regulars in the execution of their duties. We did everything from plainclothes to patrol duties under close supervision. I was posted to Tanglin Police Division. Being a VSC was the best deal ever. We get to choose our duty dates and most people come in when they are free. You want to know what's even better? Our ranks and power are the same as the Regulars. SPF standardized the ranks a long time ago and endowed us with equal powers. In 2011 after I got my university acceptance letter, I decided to try my luck and just apply for leave. I didn't want to quit. By then, I was already familiar with police work and criminal activity.
“Fuck, I have to go back!” Retraining was a really nice way of saying, if I don't come back, I'll be kicked out.
That Email was a problem. I had to do my undergraduate major in the US, and I was far from completing it. How can I possibly go back right now when I’m barely 1 year into my studies? Earlier that month, I got a reply from Harvard and Yale’s financial office, stating I could apply for financial aid but the outcome is discretionary if I got into their Medicine School. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? My prospects were limited with a Chemistry undergraduate degree. Sure, I could find a job, but that wasn’t what I wanted to do in life. I wanted Medicine, and if any country were to offer me an opportunity to go to Medical School, it would be the US. My own country, Singapore, already denied me any dream of wanting to go to Medical School the moment I entered JC. I wasn’t the A*Star student the country wanted. In the US, people get into Medicine even with just a 3.3-GPA. All you need is a shit load of money, and a kick-ass Resume that really sets you apart from the competition.
I wanted status, I wanted to return to my country with glory, and my head held high; to show everyone who looked down on me before what I have achieved in life. Being rich isn’t my goal, but if everyone in my country sees a doctor as the very epitome of individual achievement, I will get it. This dream, albeit distant and unrealistic, gave me hope; that if I worked hard, I will get it – the very essence of The American Dream.
There were a couple of problems: My dad’s business into food catering was failing. His regular customer switched to a different caterer, and he had trouble finding new ones. His business model was looking for factories and industries in far off areas, providing food catering to the workers. In the good old days, he used to boast about supporting me until I finished Professional School, either a PhD, or Medicine. Now, I was about to get kicked out of the Singapore Police Force. My hope in getting a kick ass resume was starting to fall apart. Initially, the grand plan was to get recognized in the Force, rise so far in rank and appointment so that when I apply to Professional school, they would see me as a unique and high flying candidate. Fuck my life..
Chapter 3 - Hidden Treasure
December 2012
Taurine, Google, and Red Bull were my best friends for the past few days. Whatever problem the world lay before me, had to be cast aside. My world froze for this period. I haven't replied INSP(V) Raymond Lee for 3 days, my friend's Frat house had been converted from a party place into a studying utopia, and all I did was study. Whatever decision that needed to be made had to be done soon. That Friday night, I was staring at my Silk Road browser.
"Damn," I thought to myself. So far I've been buying my Blots of LSD from BlueViolet99 for at least $15 to $20 a Blot. My usual order was 5 hits which usually came disguised inside a little voucher book. The vouchers were real, but I wasn't interested in buying furniture. His reviews were astronomical, coming from LSD enthusiasts who gave him nothing but praise for quality and speed. 250ug LSD was my favorite although I started out with 150ug. It was so convenient and stealth. Believe it or not, 1 drop of LSD on a Blotting Paper is all it took, and the effects lasted for hours. It was odorless and colorless. A random thought came in, "Why don't I just buy in bulk." I shrugged it off, but sent a Private Message to BlueViolet99 anyway.
"Love your wares, dude. High quality. Interested in bulk buying, what's the catch?" Away the Private Message went.
Finals were finally over, and every one was happy. Even the hippie couple who obviously didn't study was happy. The following Friday night, there was another party, I was invited, but what's new. I took a few days after the Finals, just relaxing at home, and jogging around Central Park to think things through. One thing was certain; I had to go back to Singapore. I needed an awesome Resume, and I needed money for Professional school.
"Why don't I just bring LSD back and sell it to Art students?" It echoed through my head, followed by a reminder of Singapore's harsh drug laws. Wait a second. If it's odorless, colorless, formless, then theoretically speaking, I could bring in a bottle and make at least a 100 hits of LSD on Blotting Paper or anything that can absorb a drop. The street drug price in Singapore was typically $30 SGD for 0.1grams. That's how ridiculous street drug prices are in Singapore because of the harsh penalties. That is a lot of money. Ideally, if I was able to sell 100 hits of LSD at $40 a hit, I could be making $4000. Awesome idea, but I know it's going to take a lot more to stay alive and elusive in Singapore. Ask me, I should know; I was, no, I AM a Police Officer. Nobody knows the law and operations better than me. I have seen cases go unsolved, I have seen Investigation Officers (IOs) scratching their heads, and I have seen how the underworld worked. Suddenly the sky looked clearer than before; I looked up, squinted at the sun, and smirked.
That Thursday before the party, Google became my best friend once more. I went through all the news the internet contained regarding to Singapore's drug bust, and how people get caught, internationally, and domestically. From all the readings, I came up with the following observations of how people get caught:
1) They were idiots
2) They carried pills and powders around with them, strapped to their body, or luggage.
3) They tried to beat the system which was created to sniff people like them out, especially at the Airport.
4) There was first hand and unintentional second hand contact with undercover agents.
5) There was a tip off. I speculate, a dealer got caught, and in exchange for clemency, he tipped off the DEA/Police.
It made me so excited I nearly shit in my pants. It was a challenge to me; Challenge Accepted. Maybe that's why I'm a scientist in training. I observe, hypothesize, and work on challenges. If there's a problem, I will find a solution to it. Each time I read a drug bust article, I took deep breaths and told myself, "Use your head, not your fear".
"Trust no one; betray every one." Those were the rules to staying alive and elusive. In that same day, after days of waiting, I got a reply from BlueViolet99. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. It read: "Depending on order, I will instruct."
The game was on. Even though BlueViolet99 wasn't specific, I knew he was interested in bulk orders. After all, LSD sellers on Silk Road are typically underground chemists with the right equipment to synthesize LSD. You needed an intimate knowledge of chemistry to make LSD, much less down to specific micrograms. It wasn't like Cocaine, where farmers in Colombia could do the job with microwave ovens and gasoline. I did enough research into underground LSD manufacturing to know these underground chemists prefer to run their operations on their own, meaning there was no Dealer involved. No dealer involved, less risk. With Silk Road, they were literally on a roll.
I did the math on paper. To make my time worthwhile in bringing back to Singapore, I needed at least 500 drops. A single 5ml dropping bottle could dispense 100 drops, which translated to 100 hits. Supposing I sold it at $40 SGD a hit, I could be making close to $20,000 SGD for 500 hits. No way was I going to bring Blotting Paper back; carrying 500 pieces of Blotting Paper is clearly asking for trouble from any security department. If I was going to bring it back, It was going to be in eye drop bottles, preferably medicinal eye drop bottles with authentic labeling and branding to be more convincing to security agents and the police if ever check me; thats IF they ever check me.
BlueViolet99 typically sells a hit for $15 to $20 USD. I'm sure bulk orders would be a lot cheaper.
"Thanks for replying, I really appreciate it. I've been buying from you for some time now. Am looking to buy at least 500 hits - No tabs, no blots. Preferably fluid. 250ug. I propose $2500. Please quote your price and instruct."
I was just trying my luck. My proposition was $5 USD a hit. One thing I learnt from my mom about haggling, is first cutting the price down to its lowest and slowly increasing it until the seller is comfortable. Thank my mom, thank Queensway Shopping Centre.
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Oh?! Now the punk kid in the story need education and 'pay and pay medicine' to be successful
? : http://www.twogag.com/archives/2725 -
@M the Name, keep it up. And thank you for reading it all so far. I'll make adjustments along the way, but try to look at it as an origin story where things will change as the character meets new people and finds he has to make decisions, good or bad
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@M the Name, I want to clarify that I;m not offended by what you're saying. I looked through all your previous posts and realized you're an incredibly sarcastic and cynical person. The way I see it, if i can get people like you to like this story, then it must be a damn good story; so don't stop criticizing. You're the only active reader around this thread.
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Me like your story? Are you another one of the Naruto the pang sai or Justin Bieber, that is you even know what I am saying? And who is sarcastic? If you want to compare your work to the other 'works' like the same one I post the link early, do you even realize what is the different between a dung (your 'story') and a piece of diamond (other people's excellent work e.g Harry Potters, Numb3rs).
In fact I seem too many of third rate works (Naruto the pang sai is my top list !!!) including yours which lower reader's IQ and I am so disappointed that my blood pressure is always high plus the everyday MRT's peak hours travelling that I rather spend my time wisely by watching shows from Discovery Channel and other more 'knowledge' shows like this : http://www.g4tv.com/videos/47945/its-effin-science-how-to-build-a-parabolic-microphone
I think maybe I might stop reply and continued to enjoyed other 'world-class' stories and shows while at the same time I sat back and waiting to see who will reply to your thread, meanwhile here are some of the exciting works and views I am sharing with our other fellow sgformers here :
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your english is really bad .. I never said you liked it. I said if I could get you to like it..
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@lindblum, just wanna say that i liked your story so far... pls, do continue....
you are right that there are not many active readers, but don't worry about it.
BTW, do you know about the drug scene in Hong Kong? it will be great if your story could also talk about drugs here in HK...
all the best!
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Continued
Chapter 3
Blueprints
To me, if there was any take home lesson from the previous drug busts that incarcerated and executed dealers, it would be the following:
1) Minimize all contact. Never meet a customer; he could be followed or he could be an agent of the law.
2) There was a need for an undetectable medium for package drop off and pick up for customer.
3) Leave no paper trail (credit cards, phone bills, bank statements)
4) Secure mode of payment
Being in the United States taught me a few things about old school drug dealers. First, nobody will approach you to sell and buy drugs unlike how movies portray it. That stereotype where there would be a Black dude with a beanie and a bling standing by a street corner who anyone could approach to buy drugs from simply does not exist. Second, it isn't difficult to work your way out from your inner circle of friends to their extended network to locate a dealer whom he also considers a "First Hand Contact."
The first time I bought my drugs from dealers, I did the exact same thing. I scanned my network, attended events and parties, profiled people who would most likely be involved or had contacts to Dealers. Was it difficult to profile people? No, the answer is No. In college, all you needed was to identify the dudes who walked into the lecture hall/event and had a few people from various cliques and social circles saying "Hi" or fist-bumped him. Take note who they were, find chances to sit next to them, and initiate conversation with a simple "Hi," play it cool, and back off. Every time you see the same person anywhere in school, go up with a "Hi" and end with a "Catch you later," until one day he wants to talk. That was how I got initially invited to various parties and exposed myself to their networks.
If I could do this, so could undercover agents.
"No meeting customers," I told myself.
I needed a platform like Silk Road under a secure network like TOR Onion to mask myself and my customers. TOR essentially bounces your IP and servers off almost every worldwide server at random making it a nightmare for security agencies to track you down. It would be ideal for every one. The thing is: I'm a science major, not an IT expert. I needed a partnership; a partner who could manage such a system and website under TOR Onion, and I needed to make his time worthwhile. Secondly, I needed that partner, whom I know and trust, to stay in the US for me to funnel money to and fro, and more importantly, away from Singapore where there was little room to hide.
"Coby's brother, Phillip Kyung." That was the first name that came to mind. IT major, and the only one I know who wasn't afraid of breaking the law, and most importantly, meticulous.
That was the thing about doing crime; it had no room for mistakes. The police have thousands of people cracking their heads trying to piece a case against you, while you were one man. People who got busted always made a mistake somehow. They were careless. Either they met an agent who followed the drug and money trail, or they were betrayed by someone who got caught. In Singapore, the Police and CNB always never declare in the papers how they busted the Dealer, but if you sit down and think about it, it will not take long to realize that all they needed was to catch one customer for drug possession, make him cry in the interrogation room, strike him a deal of co-operation, and make him reveal the contacts/networks, then trace the phone numbers and stake out patiently, while figuring out where the Dealer hides his stash and cash. "Be smarter than the police, and you will live one more day," a philosophy I held all the way.
"No meeting customers, no first hand contacts," I told myself repeatedly. The difference between me and the busted dealers? I'm smarter than the Police.
Things were getting serious. There was a plan; it was to utilize TOR Onion's deep web to set up a market place where I could receive orders, money, and list my products without detection from law enforcement agencies. My plan was to have my partner run the whole operation here from the United States, while I stationed myself in Singapore to ship the goods domestically to customers in covert ways through the mail. That way, even if CNB and CID wanted to trace any IP, it wouldn't be possible. My partner will be running it overseas, bouncing the IP from server to server. CNB and CID would then engage Interpol, after determining it came from an overseas address. Even so, it would take a long time to even figure out where it was coming from.
Failing to plan was planning to fail. To beat the cops, I would have to think like a cop.
My operation was based on a single assumption on where CNB, CID, and Interpol would start looking. The way I saw it, CNB, CID, and Interpol would access TOR Onion like any user. They would see our username, and track where was this IP and server coming from. I called this Channel 1, and this would be where I would be sending them on a wild goose chase. Based on this, it wouldn't take long for CNB and CID to realize that there had to be a local contact (me) doing the shipping.
CNB, and CID, has no lack of experience catching drug dealers. But their very pride would be their downfall. So far, all the drug busts that they pride themselves over in the newspapers involved a dumb dealer with the standard old school drop off, pick up, and money exchange tactics. "So crass.. so unrefined.." Shaking my head. Never have they encountered someone who was educated, who would blatantly ship drugs over SingPost domestically in the guise of gifts, vouchers, advertisements, books, pamphlets, and greeting cards. All I needed was to slot Blotting Paper into one of those, stick a stamp, and drop it off in the mail. There are thousands of Posting Boxes all over the country, I would love to see them stake every one of them out. Since LSD is odorless, and colorless, they would have to open every single mail just to find my LSD Blotted Paper, and face national outrage. The more I planned, the more the excitement I felt. I could beat the whole system and tear their pride down. I was the master criminal..
I drew three lines on a paper parallel to each other. One line represented the order channel from Singapore to my partner, the second represented my communications channel to him. The third represented the money trail. All three lines had to run separately, and simultaneously. At that point in time, I haven't gotten it figured out. I needed to talk to Phillip Kyung.
Insomnia
My table was a complete mess. There were notes, RedBull cans, and books everywhere. Even my trash bin was surrounded by pizza boxes and sandwich wraps. Since the Finals, I never got down to cleaning my apartment. That thursday night I was swarmed with emotions. My gut was constricted, my head was buzzing from the Headband strain I just smoked.
"Too heavy on the Indica," as I got up from the couch. Simply put, I was high. My plans were not complete; there were tons of loopholes that could be easily exploited by security departments.
I logged on to Silk Road again, BlueViolet99 had replied, and was currently online.
" US$6000 for 45ml. You get as much as I can fit into the bottle. I will come down to NYC. Cash only "
Huh, how did he.. Right.. He knew my address, and knew I was in NYC. As expected of a Dealer cum Chemist, he kept a record of his dealings; a tactic I found most useful much later on.
Wait a second, that would mean US$6.66 a hit for a total of 900 hits, working on a 20 drop per mL assumption. Supposing I sold at $40 SGD per hit, I could be making $36000 SGD. Hell yea, I was in.
"Deal is good, thanks a lot. Where and when do we meet?"
"Soon. I will instruct via mail after you send me a copy of your State ID as insurance. Email it to 12cv99@mallinator com or deal is off"
Shit just got real; I drew back and sank into my chair. Should I, should I not? State ID? I only have a Singapore Passport. But it looks like he wouldn't meet to sell unless I sent him a copy of some kind of identification. Till this day, I wasn’t sure if I was thinking straight that night; I was pretty high on weed to begin with. I took a picture of my Passport, and uploaded it to him.
Then there was no further reply.
As I sobered up from the Weed, I realized the shit I was in. I just fucking gave a copy of my Passport to a drug dealer, how intelligent was that. "Master criminal my ass.." I covered my face and lost count of the number of times I said “Fuck.” Truly an amateur.. I couldn't sleep anymore.
For the first half of Friday, I was lost in my head. I kept asking myself "What could he possibly do?" He knew my address before, and now he knew everything about me down to my last name. There was no way I could stay anonymous anymore. If he got busted, the DEA will come looking for me, seeing from his records how much he sold me. Whatever it was, my life was in God's hands. I hope he doesn't get caught, and I freaking hope he's as smart as he thought he was. Lets just hope he keeps his word and uses it as insurance..
All that stress had to come out somewhere. That night, I partied like there was no tomorrow; I couldn't even remember what I did other than playing games with this girl from Queens and banging her in the bathroom doggie style then passing out on the stairs. "Did I use condoms?" I wasn't sure, but I know I always make it a point to fuck with a condom when doing it with a stranger. Come to think of it, it was pretty funny that the bathroom had a little basket of condoms of all sorts sitting on top of the bowl; courtesy of the host.
One thing was certain; I had to leave the US as soon as possible in case he gets busted. Hopefully, just hopefully, the DEA wouldn't give a shit about me if they knew I had already left the country.
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Friends
Once the hangover from the previous night wore off, I ran to the bathroom, and splashed my face with water. “Get your shit together!” The thing about drug dealers was that you can never ever trust them. Who was BlueViolet99, I did not know, but since he had insurance, I needed insurance too. That’s the way this game worked; you got to have something on each other. Having leverage over someone is ideal, but if you don’t have leverage, then you would need at least an identification of some kind just in case. Trust was almost non-existent. Perhaps fate wanted me to learn this lesson in the US where the penalties were milder before going back to Singapore. In Singapore, one mistake could cost me my life. I became more optimistic; I will learn from this.
“Phillip, it’s me L. Could we meet to talk at my place tonight at 7pm? I’ll get beers and pizzas; all you need is to show up,” My text read.
“ I’m down dude,” was his reply.
Phillip Kyung was second generation Korean American. One thing about Koreans was that they were really proud of their ethnicity, and they weren’t afraid to show it. He was about my height, 168cm, skinnier, had hair that extended beyond his ears, and never really had a sense of fashion. His jeans were baggy, and completely out of style. Who cares, he was a genius in his own right. Sometimes the Asian stereotype about being good at computers, math, and science was pretty accurate, but we just don’t like hearing it from non-Asians.
The bell rang at 7:15pm. We sat down and did small talk as always. I eased the topic on Silk Road, and my whole plan in. During this whole time, his face was expressionless, never saying more than the occasional “Ahh.” Somehow whenever he did that, I was reminded of an old joke about Koreans always saying “Ahhhhh,” Japanese always saying “Ehhhhhh,” and the Chinese always saying an incredibly sharp “Orh.”
“You’re fucking kidding me right?"
“I have already arranged a meeting with my dealer; I’m serious. I’m getting 900 hits"
“I.. I really don’t know if you’re fucking crazy or just plain stupid, L"
“$100,000 . That’s my target. We’ll split it 50-50. I’ll get 900 hits first, then I’ll return and get more from him. It’s so easy to come over with a Singapore passport. Clearing immigration is a breeze."
“You’re going to get caught, and we’re going to jail; I don’t like jail. I’m Asian, they’ll fuck my ass in there," rolling his eyes as Phillip chewed on his Pizza.
“That’s why I approached you. You were the one who explained TOR Onion to me. I NEED you, Phillip. To pull this off, I need someone who is paranoid, meticulous, and knows exactly what he’s doing. Look, I don’t care if you’ve been jobless for the past year; I need your skills, and you need my brains. Don't forget, I know the system"
Then the room fell silent.
I had said my bit, gave my business pitch, now it was in his hands. If he was against it, the whole Operation was off. Somehow I knew he liked the idea of using LSD. If there was one drug we could sell through the mail, walk through customs, and carry around without getting caught, it would be LSD. Odorless, colorless, and formless; these were the traits that would make it a success. While law enforcers spend their time and resources looking for pills and powders, we could just slip right past them, smile at their dogs, and walk out of the airport a free man.
That was the thing I learnt about being a Pick Up Artist; misdirection. When everyone was fixated on one thing, you do something else. Meth, Cocaine, Weed, ICE, Heroin etc - Those were the hard drugs the Police were looking for. Nobody would think about LSD, much less in Singapore where the dealers are dumb, their chemists are stupid, and the Police so acclimatized to that kind of stupidity. If dealers in Singapore had to mix glass pieces in the Powder to induce a better "high" by cutting small capillaries in your body for more absorption, their chemists must be pretty stupid. I could make LSD an epidemic, then when the Police start looking for LSD, I switch to something else. I wouldn't be a criminal, no, that would be an understatement; I would be The criminal.
“I’ll think about it L…"
“I gave my dealer a copy of my passport. There’s not much he can do with it, but whether you’re in or not, 900 hits of LSD will be coming"
“You’re fucking crazy, I swear to God."
Maybe I was. But my mind was fixated on beating the system instead of earning fast money. Everybody thought Einstein was crazy, but he turned out to be a genius. Make no mistakes, and I don’t think I will seeing God anytime soon.
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