Blotting Paper: A story of a drug Kingpin
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NOTICE: I publicly apologize to the Admins for wrongly accusing them of deleting my Chapter 3. There was an editing problem and I fixed it. Also, for the SPF, and goverment Agencies reading this thread, nothing under OSA will be revealed. The plot and setting are fiction. My intention of this thread is to tell a story that blurrs fiction and reality, because a good story has to have a degree of realism. Thank you Readers
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Originally posted by coffeebreak:
@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!
Your reply does remind me of "�惑仔" which is an realistic HK manga of underworld.
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Oh Sheet. Seems that I share the same mindset with some drug lord. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6UHFHT1WhPc
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-Continued
Chapter 3
Friends (II)
The following week, a letter arrived addressed to me in a pink envelope. In it was a pop out card wishing me a good day and signed off, Violet. Violet? Who's Violet? Something peculiar caught my eye; a small SIM card slotted into the corner. It was BlueViolet99.
Ahhh, so that's what BlueViolet meant. Clever motherfucker.
For an underground Chemist, he was sure going through a lot of precautions to protect himself. First my passport, then a SIM card to communicate. If you asked me, it was a truly an ingenious idea. In this fashion, there would only be one way to communicate with him. Paranoid? Maybe, but it was a brilliant plan. Anyone who received the SIM card could figure it out. It was way too dangerous to exchange numbers over Silk Road; The DEA or FBI may have already infiltrated the system with their tech department. Best to work on the assumption that they already have. Even the email address he gave me was from an anonymous email service. That way, even if the DEA was actively monitoring Silk Road reading all the Messages, they wouldn't have a fucking clue that we would be communicating through a secure phone line, on a SIM card dropped off through the mail. It was a foolproof double layered security. Truly brilliant.. I found myself saying as I looked at the SIM card between my finger tips. My guess back then was that the card was registered to someone else - it would be dumb of BlueViolet to take such precaution and register it under his name. Whatever it was, this BlueViolet99 was a professional; no doubt about that.
Luckily for me, I had an extra phone, and I waited for two days before I got a call from BlueViolet99 from that line. Needless to say, I was nervous.
"Hey there, liked the card?"
"H-HHey..... it was a little overdone don't you think"
"Hah maybe. Listen I'll be in NYC tomorrow. I will meet you at 545 W 110TH Street. Will 2pm be ok?"
"Perfect, see you there"
"You got it. Listen, come alone; we'll make it short and sweet"
He hung up.
Contrary to what I was expecting, he actually sounded pretty decent. Definitely White; 40s? I wasn't sure, but I had expected him to be a little more gangster-like. Been watching too many movies I suppose. Right after he hung up, I made a phone call to Phillip and told him the details and a little plan that I had.
"That's all? You just want me to snap a picture of his face?"
"I need a close up shot, Phillip. Its Insurance."
"Ok got it, but just so we are clear, I haven't agreed with you on your plan to take over the world"
"It's a plan for us to get rich and for you to finally put your talent into use instead of playing games"
"Fuck you L"
One thing I found amusing was that games and IT guys always go together. Phillip was so good at World of Warcraft that he used brag to us about being friends with the legendary FireMage called Hansol. Nerd..I shook my head.
I unlocked my luggage and took out the US$2500 my dad brought over when he came to visit in August. Perhaps its a thing with their generation; they preferred to carry a lot of cash. I kept procrastinating and never got down to actually depositing the money. Later that day, I made a trip down to the bank to withdraw the remaining US$3500. A part of me wanted to do this, and another part of me was reminded how hard my father had worked for this money, and I was about to spend it on LSD. I shouldn't be doing this; this wasn't right.
Investment, this was an investment..
If I pulled this whole Operation off, I could pay my dad 5, no 10 times the amount I took from him, plus interest. Agreeing to the deal with spending US$6000 on LSD was the easy part. It's only when you go to the bank to do the actual withdrawal that you have second thoughts. Seeing the actual money in your hands was more than enough to sense the gravity of things. How was I going to tell my dad that I'm now US$6000 short?
Course deposit for school.. Yea that's right... Just say it's a deposit for reserving my place in my school if I go back to Singapore.
My dad would be too busy, I don't even think he would even realize that there was no such thing. I was going to Hell for sure.
Twenty minutes until 2:00pm.. I kept looking at my watch, and time was just crawling. I didn't have any appetite for lunch; my gut was too constricted and I was taking short and light breaths. The bus stopped a few blocks away from 545 W 110TH Street, and I decided to take a slow walk on foot. If there was anything I learnt about being a Police Officer, it was to mind your surroundings. Every step I walked, I counted the possible locations BlueViolet or the DEA could be coming from. But I didn't expect the DEA that day; there was no way the DEA could have known from the secure phone line we used to communicate. If anything could go wrong today, it wouldn't be getting arrested. My worst fear, albeit unlikely, was that I was going to mugged of US$6000 by BlueViolet.
"I'm in the car. I will be able to see you once you turn the corner. Coby is at the other end smoking. Do not look at him once you're past him"
I took a quick glance at Phillip's text and put my personal phone back into my coat. The sky was clear, but there was a strong breeze today; typical of an early winter. For clearer recognition, I wore a red beanie on purpose in case.. just in case, something goes horribly wrong with the deal. However amateurish this was, it was our only shot at getting a picture of BlueViolet. Phillip with the high zoom camera, Coby with a simple portable camera.
20 minutes past 2pm; still no sign of BlueViolet. My secure line with BlueViolet still hasn't rung. Why was he making me wait? I'm pretty sure he would show up, but being late was completely rude. Then I thought about what I would have done if I were him; I would have surveyed the surroundings first.
Shit.. Did he spot Coby and Phillip?
Though possible, but its an unknown. The longer I stood at the street corner, the more suspicious I was going to look, that was just common sense, was BlueViolet an idiot?
Finally, the call came in through the secure line. His voice was a little distorted by the breeze blowing across his receiver.
"Hey, I see you now. Take a turn, walk towards Central Park. Find the first bench you see, and sit down. I will be there; just wait for me."
"Ok, Got it."
He was watching? From where?
I hung up on him. I looked around; I couldn't see anyone who suited his profile, White, 40s, or at least that was what he sounded like to me. As I walked towards, my personal phone started ringing continuously. It had to be either Phillip or Coby wondering why I left my position. If BlueViolet was watching me, it would be unwise to pick it up now. That was why I wore the red beanie in the first place, so that they could spot me moving and make appropriate changes to the plan.
Almost there.. As I walked a couple of more blocks.
After sitting down as instructed, the waiting began again. Then he finally came, a Super Big Gulp of soda in his hand, grinning at me at the same time. He was White, had short white hair with a side parting, a little on the plump side, and a really gentle face with droopy cheeks. Absolutely not someone you'd expect to be a drug dealer. He looked more like my science professor than anything. The things people do for money..
Geez.. So much soda, no wonder you're so fat...
He wasn't 40. Definitely much older; I'd put it at 50, 60 or somewhere in between. BlueViolet had this smile about him that could brighten up even the gloomiest person on the Earth. To be honest, I felt secure, and I felt like I was in school. So much to the extent that if I had asked him an organic chemistry reaction, he would probably take a pen and paper out and start drawing line structures. It was that funny.
"Want some soda?" He gestured his Super Big Gulp to me as he sat down.
"Nah, I'm good," politely refusing.
For a moment, we both didn't know what to say to each other. We just sat and looked at the park in awkwardness while he continued to drink and swirl his soda in the cold weather. Violet broke the silence.
"What's your major?"
He knew I was a student? ... While I didn't actually think he was sure, it was probably a wild guess based on the way I was dressed, and my address. I lived near the university after all, naturally anyone in his shoes would guess that I was a student. Enough was enough, whether it was a wild guess, or an accurate profiling, there was no way in hell I was going to let him know about my life. The danger was real and clear. Beneath those smiles, fat droopy cheeks, and friendly facade, was a pit viper that would strike anyone and everyone; friend or foe. Anybody who needed "insurance" will have no hesitation using it as leverage against you. This was the way of the underworld world. Brotherhood, honor, and trust were just buzz words to get the less intelligent to fall in place on the chess board.
"Ehh.. Come on you know so much about me, and now you want to know my major too"
Again that little funny grin came on his face.
"It's just insurance. There's never such a thing as being too careful in this line, you would be wise to remember that."
"Do you always ask your customers for their State IDs?"
"Only the ones who Deal - Come on, don't give me that look. From that amount you wanted, you're either the Feds, or a Dealer."
With one hand, he peeled open his coat, and gestured to me to pass him the money with the other hand. Naturally, I was reluctant. Was he trying to be funny? He wanted me to hand him $6000 of cash without a single indication that he brought the goods. Come on, I was no fool. He probably sensed I was reluctant to hand him the money like that.
"You're not really good at doing business are you."
Hearing this, he closed his coat and once again drank his soda while grinning at the same time. Then he turned to look at me again.
"You sure you don't want some soda - you paid for it"
Huh.. I paid for his soda? .. Ahh, I get it now
I can't help but smile at the realization of what was going on. I paused for a while, looked up at the sky with both hands in my pockets, and turned back to face him.
"How good is the soda?"
"Good enough for a very long time."
The mood lightened up, now both of us were happy with the pleasantries and comfortable doing the exchange. I took out the envelope from my coat, gave him, and in return, he gave me his whole cup of soda. Swirling the cup; I could feel the ice, and a large object within the cup as it hit the cup walls. Just to be sure, I opened it, and saw a bottle floating with the ice. As much as I wanted to sample it to prove its authenticity like how the movies portray, it was an extremely bad idea to Trip right now with so much LSD on my hands.
"Thanks. Want your SIM card back?"
"No, keep it. The number I used to call you with will be the number you will text or call if you want to contact me, but send me an Email first when you're gonna call - I have a ton of those cards and only a few phones."
"Wait, how do I address you?" I wanted a name, and I wanted it bad.
"Violet" grinning again once more. This time, I wanted to punch his fat obnoxious face and wipe that grin off his face. Obviously, any idiot who believed that his name was Violet would be an even bigger idiot.
There was no handshake. There was no need to. A dealer had just met his super-dealer in what was basically a trust-less relationship. We parted ways as casually as we met. In total, the exchange didn't take very long; probably 10minutes tops. My personal phone rang after a few minutes; it was Coby.
"Dude, I got a picture of him; it isn't very clear but it'll do for now. Lets meet up with Phillip first and we'll see whether he managed to get good shots"
Finally, I had something on Violet.
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Chapter 4
Newton's Laws
We went back to my apartment and sat by the dining table while I looked at the pictures they took. The clearest shot came from Coby, because he was the only one who got closest to Violet. The mood wasn't exactly uplifting, but all of us were filled with an inconsistent mix of fear, and excitement. No, it wasn't because I had just bought 900 hits of LSD in a 45mL bottle floating in a soda cup. We bought LSD and marijuana all the time, a couple of hundred more made no difference. What gripped us today was that we had just gotten a glimpse into the workings of another world. Leverage, concealment, surveillance, counter-surveillance, and anonymity - those were espionage stuff we watched on TV and read in books all the time. The exchange with Violet today taught us everything we grew up on, and the stuff we thought we understood, was fake.
"Look, this Violet guy, was good. Coby told me how he looked like and to go on foot from the other direction, so I parked my car, took my camera with me, and pretended to be a tourist. You know what, I managed to follow him for a while across a few blocks and streets. I don't know if he thought he was being followed, but he walked all the way straight to the Metro at 103th. Anyone would think he would have taken the Metro to blend in, but no. Right outside the subway entrance, he crossed the road to the other side, and got into a cab."
Right... my first reaction to that was an expression of awe, but deep inside I said "amateurs.." Phillip and Coby went on and on with each other about how close they were to getting the shots, and how they pretended to do something else when Violet passed by. They were so engrossed sharing their version of it with each other, that I didn't want to hurt their feelings. This was probably the most exciting event that happened to them in their whole life; I didn't want to ruin it. Best to let them think they were the Asian version of James Bond. Violet probably knew Phillip was following him, that was why he made the sudden change in course. They were no operatives. Among the three of us, I was the only one with Police training, and real patrol duty experience. Computer geniuses yes, but definitely not suited for the field.
From their excitement, I could tell Phillip enjoyed such a thrill. I didn't want to push it that night, and avoided raising the question about his involvement in our Partnership. I still needed him to do the computer work for me. He may be untrained, clueless in surveillance, and had no idea how to deal with criminals. But in the world of computers, he was God. He used to tell me, the reason why he was jobless wasn't because he lacked the skills. It was because he didn't want to spend his life writing codes, and probing the company's system loopholes. Like me, we both wanted to be someone; we had dreams. We wanted to be people that mattered, and we didn't want to die in obscurity. Working a 9 to 5 job, coming home for dinner, only to do another 9 to 5 job the next day wasn't what we wanted in life. He had to be my partner, I just needed that extra push to motivate him.
Later that night while I was in my shower, I got a voice mail from David, my dealer for high quality weed strains.
"L, David here. Heard you're close to Steven. Wanted to let you know he got arrested at his place for smoking weed. I don't think it's anything serious. A cop was probably nearby and followed the smell all the way to his place. Couldn't be his neighbors; they're nice people, and I just talked to them."
"What.. Just like that? Some cop came at random, and started sniffing shit and he got caught?"
Steven's sentence was the last thing on my mind. Steven will probably just get a fine of a few hundred dollars and be let out the next day, given New York's marijuana laws. But what got to me was how simple a mistake could be to get you arrested. He was smoking in the comforts of his house, and all it needed was a cop at the wrong place, and at the wrong time, to do what he was trained to do, and you're busted.
I needed to be smarter and better than who I was now if I were to pull a successful operation off in Singapore. I had to predict every possible outcome, anticipate every single move, and take the necessary precautions to avoid making the simplest mistake. I needed to be more than just a Dealer; I had to be beyond and above everyone else. To beat the Police, I must be above them. As I looked back on the day's events with Violet in Central Park, and Steven's arrest, it dawned on me that it would require a whole different skill set just to stay alive and anonymous in Singapore. I needed to be a seller, an operative, a liar, and a genius. It was more than just setting up an anonymous website and shipping LSD off through the mail. I would need all my street smarts, and I still haven't figured a way for money to be transferred since I couldn't afford meeting anyone. Now the weight of 900 hits of LSD, and being a Dealer was beginning to set in - my head was spinning.
The whole room lit up once again as I relaxed on my couch. Once again I felt I connected with the synergies of the universe, the System, and myself. My breathing got lighter, my head stopped spinning, and I started to see things differently. Everything made sense once more; I had all the answers to what went on earlier. As I closed my eyes, my mind began to wonder and float in a mix of fantasy and reality, seeing things from Phillip's perspective, seeing things from Coby's perspective, and from Violet's perspective. I could literally see, smell, and hear the things they saw; from the sounds of cars along the road, to the scent of the woodiness and dirt of Central Park.
One thing was certain, Violet was used to being followed. Real surveillance teams never follow a person across a more than a few blocks, much less streets. An operative would follow a suspect around a corner, then back off, and let another operative stationed at a designated point take over the surveillance for a few more blocks, and then hand the surveillance to a third operative, while the first and second operative move quickly to another position with new outfits which could be a new cap, or a new jacket, and wait for the suspect to pass by them again. What Phillip did was completely amateurish. Did I learn this from the Police? No. I was trained to project police presence, not to avoid being seen. During my time in the Police, I went out of my way, driven by passion, to read decommissioned Soviet field manuals I found online, so I may detect people like that. Sadly, I never got to use it. Maybe the criminals in Singapore were really that dumb.
"But why a cab..? He could have blended in by taking the Metro.."
The more I thought about it, the more I began to see the light. Indeed, this guy was a professional. In this age of technology, and the high rate of crime in New York, naturally there would be police and security cameras stationed throughout the Metro and in the trains. Where you go, where you get off, and which entrance you came in from can be captured through the cameras. If I were the DEA or FBI tracking Violet, I could narrow down the areas where he came from if he took the public transportation. Knowing cab drivers in New York, all you have to do is tell them you don't need a receipt, pay a pre-determined sum greater than the estimated meter fare, and they'll be more than willing to drive you anywhere you want. There'll be no record of your travel; FBI and DEA won't be able to track the cab driver, because there's no record. Even if they somehow managed to find the driver through road cameras, the cab driver won't even remember it. Violet could get off anywhere, change a cab, go on foot, then take another cab in the same manner, and he could basically disappear into New York with no trace of him. And then I thought, the same idea can be used in Singapore.
My couch and I felt like we were at the very center of existence. The great revelation of understanding how the whole system worked made me feel like the entire world existed for me to conquer. What was the world but a myriad of systems, rules, and laws. For each move the police, government, and criminals made and thought would make them ahead of the game, they'd always end up right where I wanted them to be. I could play the strings while I made everyone hum to my tune. Was I moving as a part of this world, or was I watching the world from a cloud. Whatever it was, there was one thing uniquely different this time round: I wasn't on LSD.
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UPDATE: Introduction has been edited for coherence and flow. Thanks all for your support, it was really encouraging.
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Originally posted by ILikeHippo:
Oh Sheet. Seems that I share the same mindset with some drug lord.
Oh Mad, I have also heard that there is a 'drug lord' drama called 'Breaking Bad' and the producer even use periodic table format to 'circle' the first 2 letters of the drama title to showcase the show. Talking about creative design : http://www.meineihan.com/neihantupian/13380.html
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- Continued
Chapter 4
Newton's Laws (II)
One fascinating thing about winter was that there would never be a lack of surprises at the brutal, and unpredictable sudden plunges in temperature. The temperature would plunge below freezing for a day or two, accompanied with spine chilling winds, and end with the occasional flurries keeping almost everyone holed up at home. It wasn’t uncommon to open your door today and see a puddle of water in a pothole, only to find it becoming a frozen slip hazard the next morning.
The weather took a turn for the worse. For the past few days, SEAMLESS became my best friend. SEAMLESS was an online food ordering and delivery one-stop portal, which a customer could access, choose it’s participating restaurants, and have food delivered to your doorstep. Its convenience was simply impeccable. What more could a hungry man ask for from an app or a website, to have food delivered right to your doorstep in a matter of 45 to 60 minutes. I could take a dump, watch my favorite sitcom on TV, and do some reading while waiting for the knock on the door. Before I came over to the United States, I had never heard of such a one-stop portal. The online food ordering and delivery one-stop portal never really gained traction in Singapore. Maybe the people didn’t trust technology enough to make online payments, or maybe Singapore lacked entrepreneurship, I do not know. If there were a way to describe Singapore, it would be an incredibly polarized society. On one hand, you have the people familiar with technology, and on the other hand, you have the folks who scoff at technology as nothing more than entertainment.
But SEAMLESS wasn’t the only thing I ordered from the Internet. I did my groceries through an assortment of websites like AMAZON, PEAPOD, and SOAPBAR. Everything was digital and done through my MacBook Pro. I wasn’t the only one doing that; almost everyone in my social circle used online shopping for food, groceries, or both. As the weather got colder, and the schoolwork got harder, I completely lost the drive to make a trip down to the grocer. To me, the Internet couldn’t just be defined in terms of convenience; it was a matter of endless possibilities. I had to use it for my LSD endeavor.
It was a Tuesday and close to a week away from Christmas. The time was about 5pm and I just came back from the university fitness center feeling proud after doing a full set of strength training and aerobic exercises. After I came out from my shower, there was a knock on the door.
“Mr L., your 18-inch chicken pesto pizza, garlic knots, and 20 wings, seasoned and garlic pepper. Please sign here,” as the deliveryman handed me the invoice. He was short, had Hispanic looking features, and didn’t look like he wanted anything more than for me to sign the invoice and leave. Apparently, it had already been paid for, and it was clearly addressed to me.
I know I wasn’t thinking straight, but that episode with Violet clearly left me looking at things from a different light. Let me remind you, I wasn’t shaken, but I had a completely new perspective on how something innocent could turn out to be something else. Was this some kind of scam, a trick, or was I supposed to find something hidden inside like a note or another SIM card? I kept a straight face, but my mind was just swirling in a soup of questions, and possibilities.
“Is there some kind of mistake? I didn’t make such an order.”
“I don’t know man, I just deliver. Call the restaurant if you want; I gotta rush to another place now.” And with that he just shut the door behind him. I didn’t even have a chance to tip him.
“New Yorker..”
That was my way of describing the typical New Yorker: Blunt, and simply no time for bullshit. In many ways, New York was just like Singapore; people were always in a hurry, scuttling like ants, and going about their business. If you weren’t in a hurry, you were jobless, homeless, or fabulously rich. Everyone had something to do, and nobody would notice you unless you made your point in an assertive, and attention grabbing manner.
Not long after I placed the pizza, garlic knots, and wings on the table, there was another knock on the door. It was the Kyung brothers; Coby, and Phillip.
“Surprise! Phillip said it was our treat this time round, and there was a 10% discount on SEAMLESS, so fuck yea, we’re having pizzas tonight. Is it here yet?” Phillip was behind him with two 6-packs of beer; ASAHI, and PERONI, both our favorite lagers, except one’s Japanese and the other’s Italian.
“Dude, you should have called. What if I was going out?”
“You told Phillip you were hitting the gym, so I said we gotta catch you with the delivery before you left your place.”
Once they got settled in and placed their coats on my couch, we each raised a bottle of beer and chugged it within a minute. It was customary of us to chug the first bottle of beer to kick-start the night before doing anything; it gets the juices flowing. For the next 20 minutes, we made small talk about the weather, Coby’s National Guard enlistment, and things we found interesting recently. Yes, Coby was enlisting in the National Guard; he probably figured he’d make a better soldier than a chemist.
Coby was somebody who could fit in any social circle because of the way he talked and came across. When I first met Coby in General Chemistry lab, his first words to me were “Yo, Wassup.” It made me completely uncomfortable with him as a lab partner, but at that instant, I knew he was a laid back, easygoing person, and that we could be friends. He wasn’t too assertive, and he had that level of meticulousness about him that I found similar to mine, even though he always came to lab unprepared.
Phillip on the other hand was different from Coby. Phillip was 3 years older than Coby, but still a little younger than me. I was 25, and in undergraduate terms, I was pretty much an old fuck. They may share the same genes, but clearly, Phillip was a lot more paranoid than Coby, and lacked the street smarts that Coby had. Phillip had to be introduced by Coby before anyone would even talk to him at parties, and events. He was the kind of guy who could come and go in your life, and you wouldn’t even remember he existed. Maybe that was why he chose computer science as his undergraduate major and graduate studies, where he could completely immerse himself in another world.
What Phillip lacked in street smarts, and social skills, he made it up with intelligence and paranoia, to the extent it got pure irritating. The first time Phillip bought Weed, he was so paranoid about it going bad, that he bought a box of mason jars, a food saver vacuum pump, oxygen absorbers, and moisture absorbers; all these just to preserve a couple of buds and prevent it from further degradation. Honestly, if my Weed had gone bad, I would have just made another phone call to buy more instead. Whatever it was, Phillip’s paranoia made him incredibly detailed, and sequential, a trait I needed in a partner.
“We’re in. We need to know more about your little plan.”
“We? You mean both you and Coby?”
“What. You didn’t think I’ll do this without my brother, did you. It’s always better to have two brains and someone you can trust,“ chugging down what was left in his bottle of ASAHI.
Everything that I had thought out, and played out in my head over and over again for the past few weeks till that day, I told it to Coby and Phillip. It was incredibly detailed, from how I would smuggle the LSD back, to the actual operations assuming Phillip was helping me, to how we would communicate, down to the most rudimentary examples of counter surveillance. Everything I thought of was based on the assumption that the DEA, CNB, CID, and Interpol were tracking us. It pays to be careful. Channel 1 from the deep web on TOR Onion will be used to take orders and sent directly to Phillip. Phillip will then communicate to me the orders and our normal exchanges on Channel 2; either an Email or a phone app service, which had to be encrypted. Channel 3 will be our money and paper trial to each other.
The look on both the Kyung brothers’ eyes was that of a man deep in thought. There was a moment of silence, during which I got up to get another beer from the refrigerator.
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“That’s not good enough. We have to close our Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and MySpace accounts. Using Gmail to send emails to each other? Bad bad bad idea. Never use services of big companies, L. The government pays them to reveal stuff. We're gonna be so screwed.”
Phillip was right; I should have realized this. Governments have power, and the police had access to resources that we didn't. The more he explained, I was convinced I found the right guy. Any government who allowed social media into their country can request for your information, right up to your friends, photos, and profile. I have heard of the police using Facebook and blogs to solve cases. Our entire network of friends, family, and places we frequently visit could be tracked if the police had us on their radar. All those places we check-in with our friends, and families on Yelp, or Facebook, can be used by the police as places to look for you, view their cameras, and identify all the people you were with. Social media had to go. And it totally made sense; big companies like Microsoft, Google, Yahoo etc have huge databases of people. Any government in the right frame of mind will look to them and ask for details. To remain in the shadows, we must adopt a life of anonymity.
“Then how do we communicate?”
“Channel 2 will have to be Anonymous Email Services from people who are paranoid about being tracked. There are such people and services around; courtesy of the free world. Only access it at one time of the day. I will give you a window period of when to look at your Email to take shipping orders from me, and in that window period, you must get down all that information.”
“I’m down with your plan. But why only a window period, at a specific time?”
Phillip smiled, sat back with a pizza slice in hand. It was the smug of confidence and the look of self-admiration at the epiphany of his own genius. Whether it was a deliberate pause, both Coby and I were waiting with eagerness at the genius he had in store.
“So I know it’s you. I will set it up in such a way that I can track people accessing it, and if accessed at any other time, I know you are being tracked by the police.”
Working on the assumption the Police was tracking us was the right move. But we needed more layers of security. I had thought of the idea of encrypting our messages. Since I had to receive the shipping orders from Phillip through Channel 2, it would be wise to work on encrypting our texts and Emails, so the Police won’t have evidence of us taking orders for drug smuggling. Even if the Police were to find Channel 2 through their sophisticated IT departments, they would need evidence to incriminate us as drug dealers. Yes, we needed an extra layer of security, and the only person who knew how to encrypt messages would be Phillip. I trusted his computer and IT skills.
“It’s possible. But it’s a lot more work than our original plan, not to mention it’s not worth it.”
"We need encryption, Phillip. It's logical, not to mention, a rudimentary requirement for intelligent people like us."
"Oh, we'll get it, but why not listen to my plan first?"
Phillip put both his hands on the table, crossing his left palm over his right, tilted his head and in a very serious tone, he looked at us and said, "We buy encryption software online," ending his sentence with a tap on the table with his index finger.
Then he stopped there.
It felt like a cold wind just blew across the room and the whole world just died. Everything fell silent, with Coby and I left in animated suspense; eyes wide open, and a gapping mouth. The man who we had thought was a genius 10 minutes ago, suddenly made us feel he was from Mars, or the weirdo from Ancient Aliens.
Coby turned to face Phillip in total disbelief.
"That.. is like the dumbest freaking shit I've ever heard in my entire life. I can't believe we live together."
"What the fuck…"
As Coby and Phillip quarreled about who said the dumbest thing in their 20 over years of living together, I was just speechless, reeling in from the shock and outrageous suggestion Phillip just gave. I certainly hope he was just joking. Was he kidding us? The Police IT departments were going to bust the code in less than a day, and read all our texts, emails, effectively hammering the last nail in our coffin. We were going to get busted, Coby and Phillip were going to jail, and I was going to be hanged.
"Wait! I'm not done yet, geez. This is my plan ok, I know what I'm saying. Listen first! Fuck both of you; have more faith in me ok, you fucktards."
"We're waiting; go on. And I'm just waiting to dick slap your face if you say something stupid again brother."
"L, you wanted a double layered security in Channel 2. Well good news for you; I have a triple layered security. We use medieval communication techniques, encrypted in technology. That will send their tech departments crazy, I tell you. If I wrote the damn encryption, I would have to change it all the time, test, probe, then change it again. They have hundreds of tech experts cracking the codes, and I'm just one man; its just plain stupid to use my encryption."
Phillip paused, took a deep breath then continued.
"We get the same book, something rare, a book that not many people read. Use cartesian coordinates x,y,z in numbers that identify which page, row, and numbering for the word we refer to, then encrypt it using different online softwares. It will send the police tech departments crazy! They will have no freaking clue what we are talking about even if they crack the encryption code because all they see are numbers like 10,25,4 - 200,23,6 - 98,20,13. They need to find our book first; there are billions of books in this world, if they don't find our book, they can't crack our code. That, fucktards, is real intelligence!"
-to be continued
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-Edited for content-
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Update: Previous post was edited for content. I call it improvement to content.
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New Year’s Eve
Kyung
Was it drool accumulating on the left side of his face, Phillip couldn’t tell. What he did know was that all familiar cold press of wet slimy saliva on the fabric of his pillowcase against his cheek, and it was anything but comfortable. He had pulled another all-nighter for the past few nights working on his computer, frequently sleeping at 5 in the morning because in the days preceding Christmas he was busy with everything relating to December 25th.
First, pre-Christmas shopping needed to be done that included everything from groceries to presents, then everyone had to meet Aunt Choi and family over at New Jersey for a Christmas reunion on Christmas Eve, followed by an actual celebration on Christmas day itself at his place in Queens, New York. For the longest time, Christmas was the one season he looked forward to since he was a kid because it represented more than just warmth and family; it was magical. Daylight was nothing more than the gradual symphonic built up of the Christmas spirit, in anticipation of the grandeur of the finale when the day gave way to dusk. Because when night fell, the town would glow with an inspirational mix of green Christmas trees decked in brilliant displays of ribbons, red, silver, and gold, coupled with bright Christmas lights, against the backdrop of the majestic vastness of the night sky sprinkled with silver stars. Whenever a cold breeze swept across town and Phillip was walking down the streets huddled in his coat on a night like this, it felt like with a little bit more of Christmas cheer, his coat would fluff out at the bottom, and with a slight leap, he could take off and fly into the night.
He got up looking dazed with blood shot eyes staring into oblivion. The percolating light through the wooden blinds hinted at the time of the day; it was close to noon, and still he felt like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. It was like college all over again, frequently working until dawn and crashing on the bed till his first class at noon.
Phillip was still very much a child and a even though he was already 25. He slept with his baby pillow his grandmother from Seoul had sewn him since he was born. There was a poster of a Night Elf on the wall, and World of Warcraft action figures of almost all classes lined up along the windowsill. That wasn’t even the end of it. He had a dedicated shelf just to keep his Japanese comic books, and video games. His favorite comic book series: One Piece. It was a story about a boy with big dreams of becoming a Pirate King, rather befitting of Phillip’s life so far. To think about how he was able to get any studying done in a room like this has always been one of the greatest mysteries of the Kyung family. He was a great dreamer, frequently self-absorbed in his own world, and had great aspirations of embarking on an adventure filled with thrill and excitement like in the movies. The irony was, he wasn’t able to step out of his comfort zone. New Jersey was probably the furthest he had ever ventured out to on his own.
There was still an hour before meeting a Robert Arrigo on Manhattan for lunch, but he had to leave early. He couldn’t drive; the roads were a testament of the snowstorm the night before that blanketed the entire East Coast in at least 4-inches of snow. Phillip pulled the blinds up and saw his car buried in an uneven heap of freshly plowed snow swept by the snowplows. His mother downstairs could distinctly hear him shouting, “fuck!” after he had pulled the blinds up. With hardly any time to lose, he washed up, packed his laptop into his bag, grabbed his coat, and made his way down to the train station. Thankfully the trains were operational.
Phillip walked into the café wrapped from top to toe like a burrito, huddled in two layers of clothing and an outer black coat that had obvious white lint speckled all over it; a testament to its age. He had used since his freshman year at college and somehow, Phillip never got down to changing it. Coby on the other hand changed his coat every year out of pure vanity. Coby pursued style and fashion, while Phillip simply prioritized functionality. “If it keeps you warm, it does its job,” was his favorite retort to Coby.
“He’s late…” Shaking his head in disapproval as he grabbed a seat, removed his gloves, and unpeeled his coat at the same time. He chose a seat close to the window; somehow the natural sunlight and a view of the streets gave him a better appetite. Phillip just couldn’t fathom how anyone, in good conscience, could make someone else wait and it was already 15 minutes past the arranged time.
The door opened, and through it stepped a figure calmly brushing the frost off his black leather shoes against the doormat, betraying no emotion, indicating no sign of remorse for being late. It had to be him; that smug of confidence on his face, and the perpetually unapologetic straight posture that gave anyone the impression that someone of his stature was worth waiting for. It was an unmistakable mark of the stereotypical Wall Street types. He was clad in a black overcoat, complete with an inner suit and white shirt, its collars fastened with a striped tie of baby blue and black. Furthermore, Phillip had seen his picture on Linked-In when he searched him up.
Phillip was nervous; he had rehearsed his lines multiple times in his head before this meeting, from basic introductions to the main topic. What Phillip wasn’t sure, was how to keep this Robert Arrigo from walking out on him after he had said his piece. He wasn’t used to meeting strangers, much less engage them on a personal level, but it was urgent, and he had to make this arrangement on his own without Coby and L. knowing. Whatever butterflies he had before had to be put aside now. Besides, Phillip convinced himself he was meeting a banker from a reputable bank, how dangerous could it possibly be.
Phillip got out of his chair. He didn’t realize this but he was slumped; his left hand was in his pocket clenching the inner fabric, and with the other, he stretched out to initiate pleasantries.
“Phillip Kyung; glad you could make it.”
“Robert Arrigo, my pleasure.”
For some funny reason, Phillip felt dwarfed in his presence. It wasn’t Robert’s height, he was just slightly taller than Phillip. He felt like a fish out of water. A part of Phillip wished he had the confidence of L., the social awareness of Coby, and the serenity of his father. There was definitely something dominating about Robert’s body language that communicated a subtle passive aggressiveness. His smile was professional, his tone was assertive, and his handshake was firm to the bone. Clearly, Robert was used to meeting strangers all the time, and getting his way. He had brown hair, was clean shaven, had thick bushy eyebrows, and deep inset eyes that betrayed his ancestry apart from his last name.
‘Definitely Italian..Come on, I can do this’
After both of them were done ordering, they were filling themselves on the table bread and butter spreads, making small talk about the snowstorm the night before, and a little bit on good lunch places in NYC. Everything was perfect in the first ten minutes. Every conversation topic and line Phillip had rehearsed before, came out perfectly and he was proud of it. One thing Phillip and Robert shared, was their belief in having light lunches that wasn’t too expensive.
“You know, I really appreciate how we can talk like this oh - I’m sorry,” Giving way to the server to place the quiche and scrambled eggs on the table. “So.. what did you want to talk about today?”
Finally it was time. Phillip had been waiting for him to say this. He put down his fork, took a napkin, wiped his mouth clean of any leftover butter grease and bread crumbs, and put both hands on his lap. Robert noticed the change in atmosphere but maintained a poker face and a look of normalcy while working on his spinach quiche with his fork.
“Swim.”
There was an immediate silence. Robert’s fork stopped in mid air, his mouth stopped chewing, his face was straight and expressionless, but he still didn’t look up. Phillip had thought of a million ways to ease the topic in, but there was no better way than to do it this way. With one word, he could tell whether Robert understood where this conversation was headed, and he was not disappointed with Robert’s response. Phillip’s heart was racing; it was a fragile moment, and he had to give Robert time to take it in before saying another word. Then, miraculously, Robert continued eating again, maintained that composure, and hinted at a willingness to listen.
“How can I help Swim?”
It was nothing but relief for Phillip, but the task was far from over. Robert was willing to talk, but he had to find ways to keep Robert at the table.
“Swim wants to know about Bitcoins; specifically how to sell it.” His palms were sweating up, and he was slowly starting to grip his jeans in nervousness.
“That, requires a computer programmer to explain it.” Saying it very nonchalantly while stuffing his mouth with scrambled eggs. “But if Swim likes, I could send a request to my bank’s trading desk to open an account.”
“Anonymously; without detection, if you know what it means.” Phillip was tired of using the acronym that meant, ‘Someone Who Isn’t Me.’ It was a known internet colloquial for people wanting to engage in illicit activities that wouldn’t be unfamiliar to lawyers and bankers. The banking world was never as clean as it portrayed itself to be, and Phillip knew it because he was used to his father talking about his experiences. The very fact that Robert was still at the table despite knowing what it meant, suggested he was open to ‘ideas.’
“If you’re asking for my professional help, I -”
“I’m asking for your unaffiliated personal opinion, Mister Arrigo, and here’s the promised price for this one-hour meeting that took up your precious time. I sincerely thank you for it. ” Sliding an envelope across the table containing three hundred dollars.
Phillip was about to cry; he had never said and done something so outrageous before in his entire life. He felt like he was sweating an ocean inside his clothes, and he wished he had some alcohol or a joint of marijuana to ease his anxiety. For a brief moment, he wished it was the usual drinking session with the boys. Robert Arrigo hadn’t accepted the envelope; it was still sitting in the middle of the table, and time slowed to a crawl. Phillip was just anxiously waiting for a response, intently staring at Robert with his hands firmly clasping on his jeans.
“That depends. How much are we talking about,” maintaining his usual tone.
“Close to fifty thousand USD.”
“Then you’ll never get it off an exchange without an ID. The Blockchain-”
“I know about the Blockchain. It’s a public ledger anyone can view showing all transactions, past and present, for a given Bitcoin, that’s why I’m asking for your opinion.”
Once again, there was another pause. Robert was just focused on eating his quiche and scrambled eggs, appearing to completely ignore Phillip’s straight question. Then, to Phillip’s surprise, Robert took the envelope, and stuffed it in his coat pocket.
“There are only three ways. Either you package the Bitcoins and sell it for USD through various accounts like a financial security, mix it with other Bitcoins and do it the same way, or meet a buyer in person to exchange the escrow codes in cash, signifying a proper transfer. Look, the Blockchain only shows the transfers, not the person, just remember that. Once you mix it up, or use different accounts, nothing can track Mr Swim down.”
He needed to hear that. Apparently, Phillip knew about these ideas a long time ago, having done adequate research into Silk Road and Bitcoin laundering the moment L. told him about the partnership. He had hoped a rogue banker could provide a different insight he hadn’t thought of, but Robert was nothing short of a disappointment. Since Phillip dealt with the laundering and orders, it was his responsibility to deal with the Bitcoins. It was easy to buy Bitcoins anonymously, but selling it presented a huge problem because of the Blockchain, and ID requirements of the Bitcoin exchanges around the world. Mt Gox in Japan may be the preferred exchange to buy Bitcoins, but selling it in bulk would be an obvious problem since the United States could issue a Subpoena anytime, requiring Mt Gox to reveal everything about an account holder that required a certified ID.
“Thanks for the lunch, Phillip. I’ll see you soon, depending on your disposition.” Speaking with a smug and wiping his mouth with his napkin, buttoning his overcoat at the same time. Although the arranged hour wasn’t up, and his quiche wasn’t finished, Robert chose to leave. It didn’t matter to Phillip; he had heard what he needed to hear, and he was satisfied.
“Would you like me box your quiche up, Mr Kyung?” Said the server.
“No, it’s ok, just bring me the check.” Eyeing Robert as he left the cafe.
-
UPDATE: Major edit for Phillip's resolve at the end of the KYUNG segment
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UPDATE: The ending of the Kyung segment has been edited for a more powerful resolve.
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Previously, on Blotting Paper
“Would you like me box your quiche up, Mr Kyung?”
“No, just bring me the check.” Eyeing Robert Arrigo as he left the cafe. He hadn’t touched his quiche throughout the entire meeting.
==========================================
Phillip rested his chin on his palms, watching Robert Arrigo flag a cab across the street. The scope of whatever everyone involved was trying to achieve, clearly exceeded the planned individual purview of responsibility. He should have known this; L. had hinted to him before that when he goes back to Singapore, each will have to deal with problems on their side. The number of felonies committed other than selling drugs could put him in prison for at least 20 years. Maybe Coby was right when he joked they’d be far better off selling drugs on some shady alley as a street pusher; at least the penalties were much lesser. Simply put, a smart criminal sending Federal agencies and international police departments on a wild goose chase will be prosecuted to the fullest extent the law permits, with no possibility of parole unless you had something they needed in exchange.
However, there was something about the allure of this operation that breathed some meaning into his life. Phillip remembered Sam Stein, the tough sadist from High School who used to bump into him along the hallway, taking pleasure in watching him fall to the ground, because he was a scrawny little kid with no friends. He recalled the mean old jokes the girls used to make about him, ‘that dirty kid who spends more time wanking.’ Those bullies were frequently called to the Principal’s office, but the bullying would repeat itself after a few days. Then, Coby gathered his group of friends from the Football Club and tied Sam Stein to a tree in his underpants, and Sam Stein never touched Phillip ever since.
Still he recalled Principal Cinzia’s words, “What is your resolve?” She was sick and tired of it being a weekly affair, and there wasn’t any improvement. Phillip’s social anxiety made it awkward to interact, and everyone found him weird. Deep down inside, he somehow knew she was insinuating him to overcome it on his own, but by some misguided sense, he chose to see himself as being victimized by everyone. All his life, he had relied on someone else to stand up for him.
For once, he had a chance to be on a global stage, where everyone would finally pay attention to him, where a global police force of thousands upon thousands of people would acknowledge his existence, and his talent. They will look for him; nobody would ignore him anymore. He had always been the top student in all his schools, even graduating with Honors at college, but nobody seemed to recognize that. L. was right about him all along; he possessed skills that the universe would be proud of. It would seem that among all his friends and family, only L. truly recognized his intellect and skills.
“What is my resolve? I will not die in obscurity like you, Principal Cinzia. Fuck you, all of you.” Signing the check, putting on his coat, and walking out of the cafe. The contrast of the dim-lighted cafe against the full glory of the afternoon glared him to a squint. He drew out his phone, dialed, and held his phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“L, it’s me. I’ll see you at your place tomorrow before your flight, 1pm. Everything is ready.”
A strong breeze swept across the city, ruffling his long coat to sporadic snaps. He had never met a more compelling, and inspiring person such as L. It was a liberating light at the end of the tunnel, giving him a new purpose in life. That old forgotten dam in the mountains the town ignored was long brimming with turbulent water. Finally it broke. Every shackle and bound that held him back, was cleaved. He was free..
“World.”
“My name, is Phillip Kyung. And you will god damn remember that.”
Chapter 5
Genesis
The Terminal was bustling with travellers, big and small. Families lugging suitcases and baggages of all shapes, sizes, and colors, formed the majority of the serpent line stretching all the way to the entrance in the class of ordinary folk, while the rich with their snobbish stature exclusively zipped right through theirs in their privileged class designation. Clearly, it pays to be rich at this time of the year. It was the very first day of 2013, a public holiday, and everyone was in high spirits for the long journey ahead, both metaphorical and literal.
I could accept the long line at the check-in counters. Facebook, Twitter, and chat applications on my smartphone were the best present-day time machines. However, the mandatory security check in the wake of 911 that came close to a strip search was a pain in the butt. The Transportation Security Administration, TSA, methodical search for explosives and drugs was nothing short of expected. I was prepared down to the last detail for the TSA. I had replaced Violet’s 250ug LSD bottle with one of Vivian’s expensive facial care products, properly washed out, placed in my main luggage with utmost precaution that was nothing short of a typical chemistry quantitative transfer. That meant every drop went straight into the transfer bottle with no spillage, or traces on the side. How was the TSA going to detect anything?
What I hadn’t expected, was something I called the ‘Swipe Machine,’ a new weapon of the TSA. Apparently, this new machine was not in the news, and was something I couldn’t have prepared for in my extensive research. They would typically swipe your palms and major body parts with a special stripe, feed it to the machine, and every slight trace of a cataloged chemical compound in the database they were looking for, would show up. If it does show up, that person would be pulled in for further questioning, and investigation.
When it came to my turn for the the Swipe Machine, my heart was racing with dread. I could recognize this machine because there was something similar in my University’s chemistry lab, where we would use to analyze substances. What made matters worse, was that I had done the LSD transfer earlier in the day, and there was a possibility of getting some vapor trace stuck on my skin.
“Sir, step forward please. Palms out.” Gesturing with an index finger.
It was a Black female officer with an expression that betrayed her long experience to anyone with a trained eye. Fortunately, her tactics were all too familiar. An expressionless face, an imposing posture, a constant straight eye contact in hopes of unnerving me into giving away my act, while her partner stood behind me to watch for twitching, shuffling, or anything out of the ordinary. He was there to tell her that I was a possible Red Flag, and to bring me in for further search.
I contained my emotions, and resisted every inch of body language that could potentially signal a Red Flag. The TSA were trained to look for that, and similarly, my police experience gave me the acquired skills to look out for that in criminals. Now, was the time to apply those skills to save myself. Everything that I would have looked out for as a police officer, I assumed she was doing the same. I was the perfect man for this job, recognizing in silent acknowledgement of my own abilities. I could play this poker game with her all day long only to emerge victorious, but what I couldn’t beat was the Swipe Machine.
Then the results came out: I was clean. It was just pure luck that I decided to take a shower before leaving for the airport that washed clean all traces of LSD on my skin, although I thought there would still be some traces left behind. A 21 hour flight through Frankfurt, Germany, was too long for me not to shower, and I had paid for the utilities bill until the end of January 2013. She thanked me for my cooperation, and directed me to the exit. I was relieved.
When I wasn’t stopped at the boarding gate into the airplane, I knew I had cleared every security aspect the TSA could conjure. I was a free man. It made me think about how flawed the entire security system was, and how it could be easily beaten by intelligent people. If I could get through with 900 hits of LSD, someone else with my intelligence could have cleared with much more.
It was already five hours into the flight, close to midnight by New York’s time. The cabin attendants dressed in elegant coke-bottled Kebayas of blue, green, and red, the cultural icon of the national airline, were constantly walking up and down the aisles, pacifying passengers who had trouble sleeping. I was one of those who couldn’t sleep, and was just staring out of the window from my seat into the darkness of the night, trying to the best of my abilities to admire, appreciate my proximity to the starlit sky that lay overhead, while deep in thought about my next move in Singapore. However, I was constantly interrupted by this middle-aged European lady sitting next to me who wouldn’t stop talking to me in rhetorical sentences like, “I just wish the attendants could arrive faster,” or “Well, what did you know, they just dimmed the lights.”
I couldn’t take it anymore, and blurted without much hesitation.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but I have a lot of things on my mind, and I’m just trying to figure it out on my own.”
“Fine.” Rolling her eyes at me at the same time, with a tone expressing her sarcastic displeasure.
Thankfully, she disembarked during our transit in Frankfurt, Germany, and I was seated next to a fat European dude who spent most of his time sleeping. At first, I thought of what I had to do to remain anonymous, then I caught a glimpse of my deceased mother who succumed to colon cancer outside the window, and I vaguely recalled a conversation with her about my school performance, then Phillip showed up out of the blue, culminating in a gradual drift into the unconscious. The fatigue had finally taken a toll on my body.
“The server codes and templates are all done. This is gonna be the layout. Operates to allow Bitcoin exchange like Silk Road does, and we take 10% for each transaction.” Phillip’s voice echoed in the background.
“L. here are the books, ‘Bridging the Gaps in Asia and the World.’ Printed in 1995; I bought this in New Jersey while visiting my Aunt. Every possible word we can reference to, like ‘Police,’ ‘United States,’ ‘banks’ and ‘Singapore’ is in there. I attached a cipher and instructions at the back to reference any numbers and dates we need to use. Once you’re over there, you have to develop your own codes for your local contacts.”
“Wait.. what the hell?” I was screaming to the best of my ability, but it came out as a murmur. Then I woke up, finding the fat European dude finally awake, and staring at me.
“Are you ok?”
“Excuse me, I need to check something,” getting out of my seat, shuffling my way through, and opening the overhead compartment for my backpack.
I heaved a sigh of relief; the code book and thumb drive were in my backpack. It wasn’t a dream, but a brief memory of a prior conversation. The code book Phillip gave me before I left for the airport, and the thumb drive for a duplicate set of server codes, templates, and encryptions, were in there.
-
Previously on Blotting Paper
“Excuse me, I need to check something.” Getting out of my seat, shuffling my way through, and opening the overhead compartment for my backpack.
I heaved a sigh of relief; the code book and thumb drive were in my backpack. It wasn’t a dream, but a brief memory of a prior conversation. The code book Phillip gave me before I left for the airport, and the thumb drive for a duplicate set of server codes, templates, and encryptions, were in there.
=============================
“Thank you,” shuffling back to my seat by the window. My head was heavy, and I was present in both reality, and the depths of memory.
I was too tired to recall the conversation and exchange Phillip and I had at my place before I left for the airport, but it was all flowing back now, swirling in a whirlpool of other memories, and emotions. Memories that belonged to a different time, sketches of people past, and distinct recollections of recent events. The darkness at the other end of the glass threw back a blurry reflection of myself, and opened a window into my soul.
I didn’t see it wrong. It was Her, decked in white long robes that shone, looking at me with a gentle smile, while I calmly stood at a distance. The mourning, nightmares, and tears were long past; I had moved on a time time ago.
“I know your face... Why did you leave?”
“L…Mom can’t be with you foreve-”
The distinct chime from the Seatbelt Sign sounded, and I was brought back. Cabin Attendants were scurrying past the aisles, the pressure in my ears was building up, and I could vaguely see the silhouette of ships that were now the size of my thumb against their navigation lights. We were descending into Singapore, and hitting turbulence at the same time. The entire cabin sank into an speechless eerie calm amid the turbulent bumps, and there were loud reverberating clangs of a loosely fastened cabin attendant’s trolley against its storage walls, heightening the unease.
“Join the volunteer police? Your notion of justice is nothing more than a child’s ideology. Grow up. You’re wasting your time, L. Go back to school; your friend’s are all ahead of you.” My father’s voice resounded inside.
“L, I’m sorry your father didn’t want to come to your graduation today. May I have the honor of putting on your rank epaulettes for you? Congratulations, you will make a fine police officer.”
Magazines suddenly jolted off someone else’s tray table onto the aisles from an unexpected plunge in altitude, bringing me back once again.
The aircraft’s flaps were now fully extended. My hands were firmly gripped on the armrests, while my European neighbor was wiping the beads of cold sweat off his face with his handkerchief. The loud clanging from the loose trolley, the sight of imminent twilight against the rising backdrop of ships, and the memories from long ago, sent spine chilling pulses throughout my body. I couldn’t contain it and broke out into a joyless laughter.
“Cabin crew, to your landing stations,” came the overhead announcement.
This was the defining moment of everything, an irreversible turning point in time. The chessboard was set, the game was afoot. As the aircraft made a final turn into the approach, the thriving colossal metropolis swung into view, rose from the horizon like a glowing amber from a fireplace in the darkest night, and the cabin shuddered in its magnificence. Sergeant Lee was right when he pinned my epaulettes on; I would have made a fine police officer. On the gameboard, I had already picked a side, but it wasn’t on his. My neighbor’s fat triple chin that replaced his neck shook in resonance with the rattling cabin, and we were pushed back into our seats as the aircraft flared like an eagle encroaching a prey, while we waited in anticipation for the impending bump on solid ground. This was the genesis of a journey, an origin story of an adversary which Sergeant Lee and the likes of him have never encountered. Behold, I am coming.
“I’ve already listed us on Silk Road. Any requests from Silk Road is directed to our domain specifically listing Singapore and Asia as the delivery region. Buyers and other dealers will come to us because we are the only ones operating in Asia and they will see it as a system that works. They will hunt for you, L, all of them. Stay safe.”
“The three of us will go by the moniker, EL.”
“Wait Phillip, have you decided on a name for this whole Operation?”
“I have. Its called-”
“Lilith.”
The wheels finally hit the tarmac, roaring with joy as though meeting an old friend who was sorely missed, blaring its engines in full reverse thrust, and extending its speed brakes in forward position. I was home.
We had arrived thirty minutes earlier due to strong tail winds, and twilight was just around the corner. Clearing customs was a breeze. Nobody expected 900 hits of liquid LSD in an expensive make up bottle. At most, they were on a look out for blotting paper, pills, powders, and crystals.
“Welcome home, Mr. L,” said the female immigration officer.
When I wasn’t stopped at the baggage point, I realized the key to every successful smuggling, wasn’t to bring in a complete product; those were exactly the stuff the officers and dogs were trained to look out for. Instead, it was to smuggle the components in piece by piece, and assemble it later. Just because a customs officer recognized what a pizza looked like doesn’t mean he understood its composition. Could police dogs really smell cocaine, or were they just identifying the traces of the gasoline component used as an organic solvent in the extraction of cocaine hydrochloride? What if I gave the cocaine farmers a different organic solvent? What if I disassociated the cocaine hydrochloride salt in water to a form a base, and carry it around like any fluid? All it took was a little knowledge of chemistry to put it back together again. If every drug dealer and trafficker understood the chemical literature, governments would have to replace customs officers with scientists to stop them, and that was my ideal world. I wanted the police to show me they were smarter, because at that moment, I was a game ahead of them.
“Where to sir?” Asked the cab driver.
“Central, Bukit Timah- No, you know what, go to Nicoll Drive.”
“But that’s just behind the airport.”
“I know.”
I didn’t want to go home, and I wasn’t expecting much fanfare at my place. Instead, I sought solace at my usual refuge, away from the hustle and bustle of life, overlooking the runway. I was in silent appreciation of the inspiring man-made mammoths descending above the seas across the horizon, and flying overhead trumpeting their arrival with a deafening roar.
“Hey Jon, I’m back.”
“L? Its.. been a while. I’m surprised you called.”
Jon was more than glad to hear my voice. He was a fellow police colleague at Orchard Police Precinct when I was in service more than a year ago. If there was anyone I wanted to talk to, it would be him. His was an idealist, pure to the core, always believing in the virtue of people. Fierce as a tiger to criminals, but soft and sincere with friends. Maybe that was why everyone liked him.
“Friend, you’ll be surprised at the reshuffling headquarters made. Serena isn’t the Team Leader anymore, and most of our original colleagues are now transferred. You won’t recognize the new Team.”
We updated each other on the past one year of our lives for the subsequent ten minutes. He was doing well; partnered with the right people, and never got reshuffled by headquarters. Similarly, I told him about all my adventures in NYC and stuff in university.
“Jon, I’m just curious, remember Old Tai from Lucky Mall who controlled the entire chain of electronic shops? I can’t seem to find him on Google anymore. It’s like he’s off the grid.”
“You mean ‘Olde Tai from yonder East?’ That Old Raccoon moved out a few months ago. Probably losing business; too many bad reviews about cheating tourists on travel forums. He’s now Cantonment Precinct’s problem, and we’re all glad to be rid of him. Word is that he moved to Pearl Plaza, near Chinatown. Why are you looking for him?”
Hearing Jon talk about Old Tai reminded me of the times we had to listen to that Old Raccoon weasel his way out of a complaint a tourist made about him cheating them, and it was anything but entertaining. He was a glib talker, frequently diluting his sentences with gibberish about him picking up Middle English, speaking to us in old medieval speech on purpose, and steering the interrogation away from the case until we snapped and got him to focus. The case never stuck on him of course; he was smart. Old Tai knew the legal definition of cheating, and always threaded on the thin line between criminal and contract law.
“Come on Jon, you’re interrogating me as well? I was just curious.” Brushing it off with a laugh.
That sent Jon into a wild laughter. I didn’t blame him; he was probably on duty through the night, and needed to relieve some stress.
“I’ll see you at the Station soon, Jon. We’ll partner up again, hopefully.”
“Definitely! And L, one more thing.”
“yea?”
“I’m glad you’re back, Sergeant.”
*
Jet lag wasn’t a big issue to me. I was used to studying through the night into the morning, only to take caffeine pills to fight off sleep during lectures and exams the next day. That day, a three hour nap at home was all it took and I was recharged. I needed to be; the Old Raccoon was as sly as a fox, and elusive as BigFoot. The very fact he could still be in business after so long was adequate testament to his wily.
I circled Pearl Plaza at least three times in my car on the pretense of searching for parking because I needed to confirm something, and I found my answer. Tai was indeed in Pearl Plaza, no doubt. I caught a glimpse of his lookout sitting by the entrance smoking, and another two at the back facing the other side. The faces may change, but his modus operandi never did. His lookouts covered all entrances and were there to warn him if there was going to be a police raid, or if any of his enemies were coming for him.
He thought he was smart, but I had done my homework on him a long time ago when he was operating at Lucky Mall out of pure dedication to police work. He would register a store under his name, and a few other stores under his puppet’s names in the same mall, while he remained in full authority and control over those stores. How he got so many people to work for him willingly remained a mystery, but it was blatantly obvious he was in control given the number of similar complaints we received and identical tactics used. An employee he claimed to have fired for misconduct resurfaced at another store in the same mall after a few days, how coincidental was that?
Knowing Old Tai’s methods, it was simple identifying which store he was at. He liked being protected by a bodyguard who was big, muscular, and dumb, who followed him everywhere like an innocent puppy. I called him, Muscles. Find Muscles, and I’ll find Tai. It only took me 10 minutes to walk around the whole mall to spot Muscles, and that meant Tai was in there even though he was no where to be seen.
The moment I sat myself down by the glass display tables, Muscles switched his attention to me in a most unprofessional transition, abandoning his first customer, and leaving him speechless. He spoke in broken english, made lots of unnecessary hand gestures, was literally stuttering, and had a smile that was as pretentious as a failed politician. Clearly, being a salesperson wasn’t his main job, and he was fed those lines by someone.
“Did I tell you about the new promotion, that would get you the best- bang for your buck, for the latest Apple smartphone?”
“Did I tell you I slept with your mother last night, and you’re going to have a brother who’s going to look exactly like me?” In a most obnoxious tone I could conjure.
His smile was fading, his breathing heavy with agitation, and his gaze fixated on me despite initially entertaining a customer with his lies. That was Muscles alright; all brawn and no brains, easily manipulated, controlled by emotions, and only recognized violence as an answer. It’s no wonder Tai picked him as a bodyguard, and now he was doubling as a failed salesperson.
“Is this enough for your mother’s abortion?” Throwing a ten dollar note after another on the table, looking straight at him until he couldn’t contain it, and grabbed me by my collar with one hand.
Agitating Muscles to the verge of hitting me in front of a customer was the only way to flush Old Tai out of the staff room. He couldn’t afford a lawsuit for Employee Misconduct and Tort that was witnessed by a credible independent individual. I didn’t like hurting Muscle’s feelings anymore than I enjoyed arresting people, but it was a necessary evil if I wanted to talk to Tai. Knowing Tai, he would never show his face if I had gone straight up to Muscles with a polite inquiry about his boss. Tai was the puppeteer, always hiding inside the staff room so he could claim he wasn’t aware and couldn’t be responsible for a ‘mistake’ his staff made.
“Your new understudy, Tai? Apparently he’s not very smart, and I know you’re in there.” Calling out into a room behind the display tables.
I wasn’t the slightest bit afraid even though Muscles was tightening his grip, twisting the fabric of my collar with a threatening expression, and tensing his meaty arms at the same time.
“Let him go.” Came a voice from inside the room.
A fat old man with prominent dark eye circles and a balding side parting, around the age of 60, emerged from the staff room; it was Tai. If he possessed an ounce of innocence, he would’ve qualified for a panda nickname at my police station, but he was far from that. Hence, he was known as “The Old Raccoon.”
“Sergeant? Couldn’t recognize you without your uniform. I didn’t know you transferred to the Cantonment Precinct. How can I help you?”
“I want all your pre-registered SIM Cards, and the IDs that registered those cards fifteen hundred dollars can buy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” turning to talk to the now bewildered customer who had observed the entire exchange since I stepped into the store.
Tai knew exactly what I was talking about, but was just pretending to ignore it. Part of his modus operandi included making a copy of a gullible person’s ID, claiming it was a Singapore law requiring a verified ID to buy any form of electronics. Then he would sell it to another dealer or register prepaid SIM cards under those IDs and sell it to third parties. It was completely illegal of course. Why he was never nabbed for that? He was cunning enough to dispatch an associate to pass the illegally obtained ID copies, and fake electronics to another store the moment his lookouts saw us coming from the entrances. It was a cat and mouse game in his territory.
“You sure you want to play this game in front of your customer, Tai? Fine by me.”
I turned to face his customer.
“Tourist?”
“Yea,” speaking in a soft, and uneasy tone, clearly confused about my intentions.
“First, the fat man is going to tell you about his special offer. Then he’s going to swipe your credit card twice, telling you it’s all part of a mandatory global warranty which is pure nonsense. Frankly, you’ll be much better off buying from a legitimate store than this old crook. You still want to buy from this guy?”
As soon as I dropped my piece, the tourist took his backpack, turned around, and left in a jiffy.
“Wait, don’t leave- What the hell exactly do you want from me?” Turning to me and speaking in hurried, irritated tones.
“I told you, Tai, I’m just here to do business. Sell me the Cards, IDs, and I’ll leave.”
For a brief moment, he kept his silence, and put the cell phone Muscles had failed to sell the tourist back in the glass display table.
“Even if I have what you claim I have, what makes you think I want to do business with you? You are the cop who gave me a ton of trouble back at Lucky Mall. Besides, that was all in the past; I’m now running an honest business with my boys at a new place.”
Hearing Tai talk like he had turned his back on cheating, and the hosts of other unknown illegal activities seriously brought me to a short burst of laughter. I couldn’t look straight at him without laughing, needing to distract myself with something else, looking sideways, and covering my uncontained smile with my palm. How he was able to say this with a straight face completely eluded me. The man deserved an Oscar.
“I wouldn’t exactly call what you’re doing an honest business,” scoffing at his statement. I gathered myself, and got my act together.
The jokes, and that little back and forth meaningless Salsa that made no headway whatsoever were over. There was no way the Old Raccoon would admit to having such things in his store, much less to me. Now, was the time to use a harder approach.
“Let me tell you something interesting I did today. I made a call to Lucky Mall’s security office claiming to be a previous store tenant looking for Senior Security Officer Yao from Burton’s Security about a police case. The office told me they belonged to a new security company, and that S.S.O. Yao and his entire team were contracted by a new place after working at Lucky Mall for six years. Where did they go? You guessed it: Pearl Plaza.
“How convenient it must be for you, Tai, to have control and have access to the entire building’s security on top of your usual lookouts sitting by the entrances. Now, I don’t even care about what you’re doing in this building, but I’m guessing you will need to know when and where the cameras are down, keys to different rooms and stores, when to bring in your fake products, or even do your ‘dealings’ with dodgy people, probably even facilitating them for a fee during ‘scheduled maintenance.’ I’m guessing you’re intending to move again when S.S.O Yao and his team gets contracted by another place. You see, I’m a pure genius, and if you’d like, I could dig up a little more on the security team and maybe, find out exactly what you’re up to.
“No, Tai. You didn’t come to Pearl Plaza to start life anew; that was bullshit. You came because it was most advantageous.”
A silence swept through the entire store the moment I was finished, drawing menacing stares from Tai and Muscles as though I was spot on. I had to be; a shady electronics seller had no need of control over the security office, and double insuring his operations with lookouts.
Tai walked to a wall, his dark raccoon eyes still boring holes into me with his arms crossed, flipped a switch, and the automated metal shutters started coming down with a loud unsettling clang, threatening to cut us off from the rest of the world. The shutters were ill-maintained. The clanging panels against each other reverberated with an ominous harsh metallic creak as it slowly descended, adding an element of terror to an atmosphere already laden with murderous intent.
-
Previously on Blotting Paper
Tai walked to a wall, his dark raccoon eyes still boring holes into me with his arms crossed, flipped a switch, and the automated metal shutters started coming down with a loud unsettling clang, threatening to cut us off from the rest of the world. The shutters were ill-maintained. The clanging panels against each other reverberated with an ominous harsh metallic creak as it slowly descended, adding an element of terror to an atmosphere already laden with murderous intent.
===================
Despite the eeriness, I was composed. I betrayed no sign of vulnerability and weakness to my opponent, and remained cross legged on the stool with a smile as we waited for the shutters to completely seal us in. I had walked straight into the lion’s den, and rattled the beast in its slumber by the neck. It may not have been the wisest thing to do for the average joe, but I was no stranger to Tai and the likes of him. Dealing with the underworld required a subtle aggressiveness to make your stand that could easily be mistaken for reckless abandon, but it wasn’t. It was instead something I termed, ‘controlled agitation.’
I reached for my pocket and put on two high quality latex gloves. The shutters came to a grinding halt; I was now cut off. Muscles moved from behind the display tables to stand by the shutters behind me.
“What game are you playing again, Tai?” My voice was calm, as I turned sideways on my stool to be able to see both Tai and Muscles who had me surrounded.
The Old Raccoon facade was now gone. He threw a grave look, and spoke with a tone that was deep, and intimidating, making quite sure I got the subtle message that he was not to be trifled with. This was the real Tai who controlled more than half the electronics stores in Pearl Plaza, who had the entire security office bought and paid for, and had fooled the entire police department into believing he was just a shady electronics dealer. I had awakened a sleeping dragon.
“Let’s try this again. What are you doing here, when did you transfer to the Cantonment Precinct, and are you still a cop?”
“I’m not leaving until I-”
“Nobody walks in here to make demands of me, and I will help you understand that I Am Tai.” He paused before continuing.
“Answer me now. What do you want, and are you still a cop? Orchard, or Cantonment Precinct? Where’s your partner?” In that instant, Muscles drew out a short hollow metal bar from the overhead cabinet.
Tai shot a glance at Muscles.
“Call our boys to be alert.”
Tai was unnerved from all the questions he had inside his head about my coming and purpose. My guess was that he took notice of my semi formal attire, my hands bound in latex gloves, and my unfazed expression despite his threats, coming to the conclusion that I was up to something. He just couldn’t be sure if I was part of an ongoing plainclothes police operation. If so, why hadn’t his lookouts informed him.
“All clear.” Muscles put his cell phone down.
“You little fucker-”
Tai slowly rose from his seat pressing his palms on the table, and Muscles drew closer with the metal bar swinging from his hand, reacting as if they had caught a bluff.
Tai’s eyes widened and he retreated back into his chair as I slammed the concealed service revolver with my gloved right hand, pressing it down sideways against the glass table pointing dead at him.
“Don’t test me,” glaring at Muscles.
Perhaps it was the sound of the heavy black material on glass, or the gleaming bullet heads in the cylinder against the bright store lights that authenticated my device as he saw it, and he was convinced. Something about Tai’s expression told me he now knew the source of my confidence in the face of his intimidation, and he couldn’t have been more right.
“What are you going to do, shoot me? I’m unarmed, Sergeant. You can’t, and you know it.”
“Let’s think about this, Tai. Over there, your dog is armed with a rod, your store cameras never work when you’re cheating people, and you have a room full of illegal products which you haven’t had the time to transfer out because you weren’t warned. Not to mention I was locked in from the inside, and you have no witness. I will just write a report that I was attacked by both of you during my ‘routine’ inspection, and when they dig up what you’re up to, I’ll be hailed as a hero.”
“Attack you? I’m unarm-”
I tossed a small knife on the table, wrapped in multiple layers of plastic cling wrap.
“I cleaned this with acetone, dissolving all my fingerprints. Who’s going to believe you, Tai? I will smear your prints all over it, then I’m going to take what I came for.”
Muscles stopped right in his tracks the moment I drew my revolver out, and Tai was completely lost for words at the predicament I had set him up with, understanding that I could easily frame him for attempted murder, and justify my killing him and Muscles in ‘self defence.’ It was his mistake to shut us in, and I had anticipated it.
“Tai, I’m here to do business; It’ll be much easier if you give me what I want.” Throwing an envelope of fifteen hundred dollars on the table.
Sensing his unwillingness, I added a little more.
“What do you have to lose? We both know you have what I seek, and I’m paying you in full.” My hand still pressed on the revolver against the glass table.
“Fifteen hundred dollars for SIM Cards, and copied IDs? I don’t keep that kind of amount in here; you think I run a warehouse? I’ll sell you what I have, five hundred dollars worth.”
The fat old man slowly took the envelope and counted the money, gesturing Muscles with a tilt of his head to go into the staff room to get what I wanted.
“I need a passport - travel worthy, and documentation. Take the remainder as my payment for it,” sliding a photograph across the table.
His dark raccoon eyes shot back at me, and Tai let out a chuckle.
“That’s your real purpose here, isn’t it?”
“This.. face here.. isn’t even yours. What is this, Korean? You wanna look like a Korean now? And one grand isn’t even going to get you near a travel worthy passport, take my word for it, son.” Dropping the photograph on the table with a scoff.
“I’ll worry about the face, Tai. What can it get me then?”
“You want a passport, I’ll get you a passport. Four grand; don’t expect to cross Immigration with it.” Turning his head over and receiving the SIM cards from Muscles.
“That much for a useless passport because?” I was unimpressed.
“Because, It’s an exact copy of the ones we get from tourists. Consulates and Embassies will verify that the particulars are real. There’s more than one use for a passport.”
With both palms crossed on the table, Tai added with a smug.
“So, give me a good reason why I should help you? What do you have to offer? Your money isn’t something I’d risk helping you for, and you’re not going to shoot me; you need my help.”
His smug confidence and attitude caught me by surprise. It was true I needed his help, and I could no longer threaten him. Could I have told him about Lilith, and entice him with its profits? I guess I could offer him a role for delivering fake passports over Lilith, at least that would be desirable to people in our neighboring countries. I was certain Tai’s business would soar with Lilith’s help, but I was unwilling to expose myself as EL to anyone, much less to someone like Tai.
“How ab-”
“You know what, I changed my mind about your offer. I’ll do this favor for you. Bring the remaining three grand next week.”
That caught me by surprise. I was sure the Old Raccoon was plotting something, I just didn't know what.
Muscles stacked the SIM cards and ID copies on the table, and allowed me to count and verify its authenticity. It was done, I had gotten what I came for, and prepared to leave. Muscles flipped the switch on the wall, and the creaky metal shutters started rumbling up.
“And you knew I had contacts for passports; how?”
“I didn’t. I threw a bait, and now I know you do.”
I got off my stool, stuffed my merchandize inside my pocket, and waited by the shutters to release me from this cage.
“You left your gun!” There was an irritation in his voice.
“Keep it, it’s an expensive replica.”
Immediately, there was a loud thud behind me. Tai’s chair flipped backwards and crashed to the ground as he rose up in anger, and slammed his palms on the table top.
“What the hell exactly are you now, L?” His voice was stern and sharp.
He had never called me by my name before. It was always “Sergeant,” or “Sir,” depending on his mood and level of intended sarcasm. I gave no reply to that; it was a good question. What was I, and who was I? Was I the cop masquerading as a villain, or the villain pretending to be a cop? As the shutters drew up, the life and lights from the world outside started flooding in like daybreak.
The clanging stopped; the shutters had fully retracted. Tai and Muscles were still intently waiting for an answer.
“I don’t really know anymore..”
Perhaps I was wrong, but as I was walking away, I heard the fainting voice of Tai saying to Muscles in the background, “...Get somebody to follow him..”
-To be continued-
-
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And do you know that in real life, female cop and drug trafficker are taking photo-shooting for an magazine? http://duba.v.qq.com/news/detail/32591.html