Part 28 (1/2)

'No, boy, taking that soil was just a show for this Lord. I'll grow dope somewhere else in these Philippines in some mountains he don't know about. I saw some from the plane. But I want that island. I want to live there. It's right on the s.h.i.+pping lanes. n.o.body would find me there. And if this Lord thinks I'm growing weed there, he'll make sure no one knows I'm there. With the real Lord's help, I'm made. Does this Lord know anyone who sells s.h.i.+ps?'

Via a cl.u.s.ter of one-night stops in Asian capitals, I went to London to attend to outstanding matters concerning Hong Kong International Travel Centre and Mehar Paper Mills' London office.

Balendo and Orca were handling the travel agency beautifully, but although it was moving from strength to strength, there had been a couple of weeks of slack trade. During this period all the goldfish in the fountain at the front of the shop had died.

'This usually means bad luck,' said Balendo.

'What kind of bad luck?' I asked.

'Can't say.'

'Why do we have to have this b.l.o.o.d.y fountain in here anyway? It makes an awful noise, it steams up the windows, and kills goldfish.'

'Chinese always have fountain.'

'But why?'

'For good business.'

'But why does a fountain give good business?'

'Chinese word for water is same as Chinese word for money.'

'What is it?'

'Soy.'

'What, like in soy sauce?'

'Like in sauce. Today my uncle from Canton will come here and see what is the problem.'

Balendo's uncle perceived the problem immediately. He took one look at the fountain and said, 'Fenshui.'

'Fenshui?' echoed Balendo. 'Ah!'

I smiled knowledgeably.

'This seems strange to you, Howard?' asked Orca.

'Oh no. I know fenshui fenshui means geometric omen. We've either got to move offices or turn this b.l.o.o.d.y fountain around.' means geometric omen. We've either got to move offices or turn this b.l.o.o.d.y fountain around.'

Luckily it was the latter. At enormous expense, the twelve-foot-high stone fountain was dismantled and rea.s.sembled. It no longer faced outwards. It faced inwards. That way the money would flow into the agency rather than out from it. It made perfect sense to me, but I was beginning to lose it.

Mehar Paper Mills had offices near Hyde Park Corner. Through a firm of head-hunters, I employed a beautiful and intelligent Pakistani lady as a full-time secretary. I had no idea what I was doing. She had no idea who I was. I just gave her and Malik each other's numbers and let them get on with it. Large consignments of everything from ladies' underwear to leather suitcases were regularly delivered. Malik was not concerned to sell them. They were all put into storage. On a visit to Pakistan, I asked him what was the purpose of this procedure.

'D. H. Marks, this is export rebate business. We can make fortune. I will explain you. Government of Pakistan needs to encourage export. Accordingly they will pay exporter a percentage kickback of price that exporter sells his product. Government of Pakistan do not look at what money is actually paid. This would make it too easy for people to cheat. So they send in government official to value product and give export price. Like in your country, D. H. Marks, it is Customs who decide value of all products. I have many Afridi friends in Pakistani Customs. This is in your knowledge. They come and declare big value. We get big kickback. For example, last week I buy two more container full of ladies' knicker. In Karachi, ladies' knicker cost maybe 10 rupees each. I show to Afridi Customs I have order for ladies' knicker from Saudi Arabia. He sign form saying value is 100 rupees each. Government chart show that kickback for ladies' knicker is 30% of export price. Government pay me 30 rupees for each ladies' knicker.'

'So, Malik, you've made a good profit without even selling anything. That's excellent.'

'This is what I am telling you. That is why Mehar Paper Mills' London office has so many boxes of ladies' knicker and other textile product. In Djibouti, where I have cows.h.i.+t business, I have ten container of ladies' knicker. n.o.body wants.'

Gerry's boat, completely free from any DEA surveillance, moved from the Arabian Sea, back through the Indian Ocean, through the Straits of Mallaca, and into the South China Sea.

Moynihan rang me while I was in London. He had just spent several hours being interrogated by Philippine Immigration Officers a very novel experience for him. Scotland Yard were trying to get the Philippines to deport him so that they could grab him for the old British fraud charges. He'd sorted matters out, and in the process had discovered there was an absolute emergency regarding my security. He suggested that for my own good I come to Manila immediately. I didn't like the sound of this.

Tom Sunde had come round to collect money from me. He was still coming through with interesting information about my past and present a.s.sociates. He mentioned Lord Moynihan. He said Carl was very interested in this guy because of his closeness to the Marcos family. Carl was currently attempting, on behalf of the CIA, to uncover Marcos's millions. I told Tom about Moynihan's recent warning. He offered to go out to Manila, meet Moynihan, find out what it was all about, and report back to me.

Tom reported that Moynihan had been approached by a Manila-based DEA agent, Art Scalzo, to help him set me up for a bust: a sting operation. Moynihan felt he had no alternative but to play along. But I shouldn't worry. He felt he could handle it without endangering him or me. He had my Philippine pa.s.sport ready, and he would soon bring it to Europe to give to me.

Tom said not to trust Moynihan. I never did. There had never been any need to.

Gerry's boat was almost motionless in the southernmost part of the Gulf of Thailand. A few Thai fis.h.i.+ng boats carrying thirty tons of high-quality Thai weed left a small harbour near Rayong, South Thailand. The voluminous cargo was transferred to the waiting holds in Gerry's boat, which set off through the Luzon Straits between Taiwan and the Philippines and into the Pacific Ocean. It straddled the Tropic of Cancer for a while, then headed for the Bering Sea and the frozen wastes of North Canada.

Some weeks later, the same thirty tons were in a warehouse on Vancouver Island, and Gerry's boat was in Lima, Peru. The scam, my and many others' biggest ever, had worked without a hitch. The DEA were either looking for Gerry's boat in the Arabian Sea or looking for ten tons of hash in California. We'd beaten them again.

Frederick, the marijuana-smuggling Dutch count, had his boat in position two hundred miles west of the Vietnamese port of Da Nang. A Vietnamese smuggling boat left Triton, a small, lawless island under joint Chinese and Vietnamese rule, well known as a safe haven for the world's pirates and their wares. The boats met. Seven and a half tons of Vietnamese gra.s.s masquerading as Thai were quickly transferred. Frederick set sail for Canada.

Just after Frederick had picked up the load of Vietnamese weed, I went to Vancouver to pick up the money from the first sales of the Thai weed. Before going, I collected my ticket from Balendo.

'Vancouver makes a change for you from Far East,' said Balendo.

Although my name had never meant anything to him, Balendo had slowly come to realise I was a dope smuggler. It was never stated explicitly, but there was no other explanation for the suitcases of cash that would sometimes pa.s.s through his hands.

'Well, I'm going for a good reason, Balendo. I'm going to pick up some money.'

'Ah! So you will be going to Hong Kong afterwards?'

'No, I don't fancy the idea of carrying large amounts of money across borders. I'm too well known. I just give it to someone who gives it to a bank. They transfer it to my Hong Kong account. It costs me 10%.'

'Too expensive for that service. Should be less than 5%.'

'Who does it for that price?'

'Triad. Vancouver is second-largest Chinese community in West. San Francisco, first.'

'I don't know any Triads.'

'All Chinese are Triads.'

Balendo was waiting for me in the lobby of the Sheraton Hotel in Vancouver when I returned with a suitcase containing 300,000 Canadian dollars that I'd just collected from Bob Light. He and Ron Allen were splitting the responsibilities of sales. Within half an hour, Balendo had got rid of the suitcase and returned.

'That was quick, Balendo.'

'The money will be in your Hong Kong account tomorrow.'

'What's the charge?'

'No charge.'

'Can you do this from anywhere to anywhere, Balendo?'