A cold motherfucker
I have a job that is a little difficult to explain. I specialize in money laundering. My clients are criminals, cartel people, killers, pimps; enriched scum, human shit.
What is even harder to explain is that I love my job and some of my clients are friends.
My office is in London, I never set foot there. I travel, most of the time, with my clients to all the continents of the world, wherever billions are made illegally.
My office colleagues hardly know me. I'm the only employee in the company who doesn't account for his time and doesn't even appear on the employee register. I am an associate.
My bosses always meet with me in secret and talk to me with infinite caution. I think people are afraid of me, they sense the danger.
The other business managers suspect that I'm making a lot of money. It's true, in fact, my income is astronomical. I own several shell companies, luxurious villas where I don't live, beautiful cars that stay in the garage, girls that I kiss when I feel like calling them.
I have no children, no wife. I spend my time with escorts.
My co-workers hate me, but they all speak to me with deference. None of these branch pussies could take my place. Because I work with clients for whom a man's life isn't worth much. My clients trust me with their money, for which they risk death or life in prison.
So I often have a gun to my head or a knife to my throat. This profession, where professional mistakes are severely punished, requires a lot of composure.
PSYCHOPATH
I have composure. Since I was a child, I have always been a loner, a little frightening for my classmates, for the teachers, for all the people who crossed my eyes.
In the playground, the bullies always looked at me with caution. I wasn't aggressive, not physically impressive, but there was something in my eyes, I think, that alerted. Sometimes, some bullies, some sleepy ones, tried to racket me when I got out of school. While they held me by the collar, I would pull out my knife or grab their balls. There were a few accidents, gouged eyes, broken ribs, nothing serious. It was always self-defense. And because I was a good student and disciplined, I was never bothered. But the social services were alerted, they wanted me to be followed by psychiatrists.
Fortunately, my parents belonged to the influential social classes of the country. Thanks to their connections, they were able to keep me out of juvenile social services. I was followed by a reputable analyst, paid to be discreet. Of course, this did not change my mentality at all. I went back to defending myself whenever some idiot thought he was allowed to bother me. I simply learned to be discreet.
Now I kill regularly, methodically. The difference is that now my targets die every time. So far, there have been no surviving witnesses. There is, to my knowledge, no evidence against me. The perfect crime requires, I assure you, a lot of coolness and method.
A COMPLETE EDUCATION
I was able to get a good education in international finance, while always quietly hanging out with the thugs in my city. I've always loved the criminal underworld, that's where I hunt. Since I don't judge them on the merits, I'm not afraid and I'm not in the same business as them, it usually goes well. Some of them have become friends, before I eliminate them. With friends, I take care to be quick.
I have been practicing martial arts since I was a teenager. My parents let me do it hoping it would channel "the violence that was in me" according to my analyst. I quickly gravitated towards the more extreme disciplines, the ones where you learn to kill. I still train with the sharpest guys. I keep myself in shape. Indeed, you could say that it channels the violence in me.
You guessed it, I'm a psychopathic fetishist: I only hunt the bandit, the professional killer, or even the simple scoundrel, at the limit.
After studying finance, I joined the army commandos for a few years. After my contract with the army, I did some mercenary work. It was not bad, it had less limitations to my impulses.
It was while participating in a humanitarian mission with the army that I realized that I preferred the "rebel" side, the ones who raped, pillaged and did not respect any article of international law. But then, these brutes were always useful idiots, manipulated types, disposable when the geopolitical context required it.
I decided to get closer to real power. At the end of my contract in the army, I targeted the London bank where I wanted to work.
I carefully prepared my interview for years. I knew exactly what job I wanted, who to meet, what skills to acquire. I wanted to handle "sensitive" accounts, to advise mobsters, warlords, outlaws, terrorists.
I asked to meet with a bank manager, one in particular. He had the right psychological profile, the bias I was looking for. He received me, I told him my motivations, my information about him. He listened to me for a long time without saying anything.
Then he asked me to excuse him for a moment. He called someone in another room. The next day, I was invited again to present my candidacy in front of the other directors of the bank, in secret committee. I was searched to make sure I didn't have a hidden microphone on me.
They made me talk, I had to demonstrate my knowledge of the mechanisms of money laundering and my knowledge of the files. I gave some clues about the files I had compiled.
I explained my background, my time in the army, my missions, my training, my motivations. They quickly realized that I was the ideal candidate.
AN OLD GODFATHER IN SAIGON.
To test me, they wanted to send me to an old godfather in Saigon. The man was devious, annoying and insulting. The interview was not conclusive, I was bored. I asked around, the old man wasn't that influential anymore. I found out the name of the guy who had ousted him: Nam Cam. I went to make an appointment directly at his home.
Before I could even explain the purpose of my visit, I was beaten up by his henchmen and kicked out. They were afraid that I was a journalist. I let myself get beaten up a bit. It wasn't mean. I noted the techniques, the skills. Except for one guy, there wasn't much professionalism.
The next morning, I was sitting quietly at the foot of Nam Cam's bed in his room. I had killed his personal bodyguard and the girl who was next to him in bed.
I let Nam Cam wake up. When he saw me, he turned pale. He thought I had come to eliminate him. He looked for his Tokarev TT33 under his pillow, but the weapon was in my hand...
I told him, smiling, in Vietnamese, the purpose of my visit. I have to say that I speak fluently twelve languages and master more or less correctly about thirty of them.
He was intelligent, we did business. My career in the bank was launched.
I strangled the old mobster, the one who had been unpleasant, the same night I made the deal with Nam Cam. I don't like to end on a bad note.
As for Nam Cam, that crazy pervert, I waited a few years to deal with him. I prepared a personal recipe for him, mainly based on arsenic anhydride and potassium chloride, during the last meal we had together in his lair in Ban Son Cop, on the Laotian border. I was already gone when the first effects of my mixture must have taken effect. But where he was, too far from the hospitals in Hanoi, he had little chance of recovering.
COSA NOSTRA
I have, of course, worked a lot in Southern Italy, a big reservoir of bandits, with all the "families". The Sicilian Cosa Nostra has more than 5,000 members, divided into some 190 families, the Coscas, each headed by a "Capo di famiglia" or "Rappresentante. Around these "men of honor" gravitate more than 150,000 people (families, accomplices, protégés). The "Coscas" usually have about twenty members who control a territory, a "borgata" in rural areas or a neighborhood in the cities. I personally know only about ten of them, the most important ones. I discreetly favored the elimination of three of them, all of whom were involved in the murder of the young Giuseppe di Matteo in 1996. The young man was the son of a repentant. Those thugs had kidnapped him three years earlier to silence his father.
I don't know why Giuseppe's fate moved me. I didn't have any particular feelings for this guy or his family. I fucked one of his cousins, in the course of my investigation, but that's irrelevant.
Killing Italian mafiosi is really tricky, because the Sicilian Mafia has been under constant police investigation since the late 1970s, after the scandals and murders that moved public opinion.
My activities in Italy have therefore always been under close surveillance. I was summoned several times by the police who were surprised to see a well-dressed foreigner walking around with impunity in the most underprivileged areas of Palermo, and being received as a friend by the godfathers. They never got anything from me. I collaborated, on the other hand, fully with the Sicilian families that I informed as best I could in their fight against the judicial investigations. My goal was to gain their trust. I was very cautious and tried to meet prospects among the new generation of capos that succeeded the old one. I had interesting investments to offer them, new financial products adapted to the times. This allowed me to identify new talent. I tried to poison them slowly or to irradiate them chemically or radio-actively so that they would die young.
The old godfathers were easier to kill. With their old-fashioned rules of honor and their Catholic hypocrisy, they disgusted me. Those old fogies didn't understand anything about international finance. They didn't even make me any money.
They thought they could continue to hide their fortunes under their mattresses, and escape the police by hiding in their pigsty when the weather was stormy.
I helped many of them to leave this world faster by visiting them in their homes or in the hospices. All I had to do was spray them in the face with a nerve agent, as if to refresh them, after reminding them how much they had to repent for their lives. In the afternoon or the next morning, the case was closed. At that age, we leave so quickly. After that, with COVID, visiting old people in nursing homes became complicated.
At that time, the members of the Cosa Nostra were still, in principle, Catholics, Sicilians and from "honorably known" families. Excluded from the Coscas were not only alcoholics, drug addicts, children of magistrates and policemen, which was understandable, but also children of divorced parents, women of "bad reputation", pimps. It was tartuffery, of course, these dinosaurs almost thought they were the salt of the earth. They hated Communists, Atheists, Anarchists. They went to church with their wives and kids every Sunday. I always found it hard to imagine Jesus welcoming them with open arms. Whether they got killed or ended their lives being watched over on their deathbeds by the old ladies of the village, they were bastards. I never liked those hypocrites who killed their victims by signing their names and burning a candle afterwards.
I gladly helped my Sicilian clients to find the traitors who turned them in to the police. It was always one less thing on the market and it assured me of their trust. I was responsible for the liquidation of this family in Palermo in 1980. This Cosca was infiltrated by dubious elements. Some guys, who had been turned around by the judges, were asking me strange questions. I alerted my clients. The "Coupla", a sort of council of elders, decided to clean up the group. I know that a good part of these traitors ended their lives in the cement of the Sicilian roads.
TRADITIONS AND MODERNITY
The individual who joined the Sicilian mafia before was forced to make a whole salamalec to try to justify his bad life. He would prick his finger, pour a few drops on a pious image while taking an oath in a chapel or a place of veneration of a saint. I once attended one of these ceremonies as a tourist. It was very interesting.
But they were burdened with rules that soon became impossible to keep in modern society. It was the Sicilian women who started the trouble when they started watching television and reading women's magazines where they were told they had a clitoris. They understood that, in the traditional Sicilian society, men had it good. These hypocrites had sex with their whores, but wanted to keep their wives behind the walls of the family home. These jerks thought they could continue to hold their females by making love to them "Sicilian style": one minute of ecstasy maximum, the time to take off and put on their pants. Their wives started to look for sensations elsewhere, with young vigorous men, letter carriers, delivery men, teachers, well-dressed foreigners, anything that could educate them.
I was, therefore, entitled, on a few occasions, to a particularly affectionate welcome when the husbands were not there. My charm as a foreigner seemed irresistible to these beautiful brunettes raised in convents. It must be admitted that we were taking risks, because their little bristling husbands would not have taken kindly to the fact of being cuckolded. But the pleasure of the forbidden always won. Even in the heat of love, I kept my weapons and senses alert.
Originally, these mobsters, very "catholic", did not practice, it seems, theft or usury and did not touch the drug trade. I didn't have to convince promising young people, with figures to back it up, of the need to get involved in drug trafficking, as in the legal economy, and to drop the two-tone shoes for more relevant outfits for the bank branches. They had it all figured out.
I am modestly proud to think that I also contributed to the expansion of the Cosa Nostra outside the walls of the city of Catania, where it was founded around 1920. It was on my advice, among others, that the young Sicilian leaders progressively extended their influence to the whole of the Italian peninsula and then to countries where the Italian diasporas were important, such as in the South-East of France and in Switzerland.
It is true that they had already been present in the United States for a long time, but I encouraged several young people to study at American universities to better seize the new opportunities of the globalized economy. I remember the son of a Corleone bigwig whom I introduced to skydiving in Boston. He became addicted to the sport. He had a fatal accident a few years later, caused by me, of course.
It has been said that the Cosa Nostra has lost influence. It is exactly the opposite, the Sicilian mafia has simply adapted to our modern world. The folklore of Mario Puzo's characters has disappeared, the new men of honor have invested the world economy, acquiring several nationalities. They are now fluent in several languages and run the world economy.
CAMORRA
The Neapolitan Camorra is, like the mafia of Campania, rather urban. It has more than 6,000 members, a hundred clans around which about 300,000 people are gathered. Each clan is headed by a "capo in testa", assisted by a lieutenant and a cashier, the "contratuolo". In Campania, I met women who ran the clans, like the famous and feared Pupetta Maresca, Rosetta Cuttolo, Ermina Giulano or Maria Licciardi. These types of women were more formidable than some men, and they often understood more quickly the interest of my skills for their business. I believe that women are going to have more and more space in the mafia. They bring a plus, that is undeniable.
I had a problem with one of them. I won't name her, out of gallantry. She had imagined herself becoming my lover. Since this was not an option from my point of view, I suffered some embarrassing assaults. I tried to minimize the incident.
But nothing is more dangerous than a wounded panther, it must be put down. So I had another leader take her out a few days later, purposely revealing a nasty trick she had done to him a few years earlier.
I witnessed some rather bitter scenes of friendship in Naples: some men were executed before my eyes. We went from blood crimes to financial setups the next minute. I think it was also a way of informing me of what would happen if I were indelicate enough to embezzle the money entrusted to me. Since I was not moved by this, they let it go. I did not forget. I took care of each one of them. It's amazing how hard it is for a police investigator to link cancer to a hunting accident.
The Camorra is mostly involved in extortion, smuggling, counterfeiting, drugs, procurement fraud and garbage management. I advised them to look more closely at the misappropriation of European funds, the reinvestment of their dirty money in florists, greengrocers and butchers. I also advised them on the financial arrangements necessary to finance charitable works and sports and cultural patronage. My advice has, of course, often enabled them to win elections. But I also contributed to the fall of some dirty cops, such as the former Minister of the Interior (SIC), Antonio Gava, by opportunely disseminating some information of primary importance, taken up by the "repentant" Pasquale Galasso.
As for the others, I helped the Camorra to establish itself where Italian diasporas already existed, in France, Germany, Spain, Canada and the United States. As the Neapolitans were bold enough to set up shop, profitably, in Costa Rica, Venezuela, Brazil, as well as in Thailand, Kenya and Nigeria, this allowed me to meet new trophies, er, clients. I was able to have profiles, each one more exotic than the other, to add to my hunting list.
N'DRANGHETA
The N'Drangheta, the Calabrian mafia, developed by taking advantage of the indigence of the Italian state in Calabria. The 155 Calabrian families, the Drina, had some 6,000 members. The Calabrians were quite violent. The last inter-family war, in 1985, had resulted in the death of 700 people, including some of my clients.
Once, a friend of mine was killed right in front of me, while we were having a quiet dinner in a trattoria. Unfortunately, I couldn't finish my meal: there were pieces of brain in it. It was an average culinary argument.
I liked working with these Calabrians. Those hot-blooded little browns were so stupid that I could start a massacre just by spreading compromising information, sometimes fake. I would simply let one know what the other had done. One would get the other killed, then the other's family would get revenge, etc. The thing was, I had to get out of there fast because they were into massacres basically.
At one point, they were really having a lot of losses. They wanted to set up a council, "la Santa", intended to settle conflicts more peacefully. Their leader, "u Zianu", the uncle, Domenico Oppedisano, was an 80-year-old straw man put there to serve as a fuse. I had him arrested with a few others so that he would let me continue to provoke settlements in peace.
I was then able to work with the real leaders of the N'Drangheta: the Piromalli, Alvaro, Pesce families, the big ones. It was during this period, in particular, that I was able to take part in the preparatory work and investments that allowed the Calabrian mafia to take control of coke in Europe.
I also once attended the annual gathering at the shrine of the Madonna di Polsi in the Aspromonte Mountains, a traditional gathering place for members of the Camorra. It was a bit creepy. I don't like the mix of religion, mafia, family, friends... Well, it's true that I kill those I sometimes call friends. But I don't claim to be religious.
Anyone who joins the N'Drangheta commits himself for life, on pain of execution, and his family. As a result, the number of N'Drangheta repentants is very small and its infiltration by law enforcement is almost nil. The organization has executed many politicians, trade unionists and rivals, even abroad, as in Duisburg, Germany, in August 2007.
The entire economy of the area from Gioa to Reggio is owned by the N'Drangheta men, who were initially enriched by arms trafficking, drug trafficking and extortion. Here again, I brought my skills in setting up operations to divert European subsidies and loans with usury. It must be said that the local banks were reluctant to grant loans in the region, it was necessary to make the local economy and trade work.
I also took part, as an advisor, in arrangements designed to ensure that local people would obtain public contracts, such as the construction of the industrial port and the iron and steel center of Gioa Tauro, or the freeway linking Salerno to Reggio. It was necessary to convince the families to invest in the legal economy, such as the olive groves and other farms in the area, transport companies, tourism, construction, camping sites or many suppliers of medical equipment.
The links between the Calabrians and other Italian mafia organizations are close. Several leaders of the Calabrian criminal organization also belong to the Sicilian Cosa Nostra, and to the famous P2 Masonic lodge, where I had many useful contacts. The N'Drangheta itself is at the origin of many mafia organizations, such as the Sacra Corona Unita in Puglia, in particular the Cosca of the "Rose of the Winds", and especially in the city of Lecce. Divided into 47 clans and regrouping more than 1500 members, the Lecce mafia allowed me to get into Albanian and Macedonian gangs that specialized in cigarette smuggling, arms trafficking, drug trafficking and human trafficking. I did a lot of work to eliminate the filthy Albanian. The individual was as bad and stupid as his Calabrian cousin, but he was less protected. I usually shot him with a rifle, a Sako TRG M10, which I was always very happy with.
The Calabrians also work closely with the Turin, Milan and Genoa mafias. The Calabrian mafia is also present, like the Neapolitans, on the French Riviera, in Germany, in the United Kingdom, in Switzerland, in North and South America, but also in Africa and in the Middle East as far as Australia. These links have always been an opportunity to diversify my work... And my hobby.
For the small game, there is also the Stidda, in the region of Agrigento and Gela, in Sicily, where the industry has recently developed, leading to a strong immigration and a disruption of the traditional structures. But the Stidda is more a group of marginal people, unemployed and immigrants. They have taken over the activities neglected by the Cosa Nostra: gambling, human trafficking or prostitution. These groups are particularly aggressive, responsible for over 500 crimes since their foundation. I'm not really interested in them, aesthetically speaking. I occasionally shoot them Sako-style, for training, when I pass by. But it's small game.
RUSSIAN MAFIA
It is in Eastern Europe, with the Russian "Maffya", that I found more exciting targets. Long before the creation of the USSR, the Russian mafya was used by the Bolsheviks to destabilize the Tsarist government. After the October Revolution of 1917, many of these delinquents served as auxiliary law enforcement in the camps. The Vor v Zakonye, literally "legal thieves," survived Stalin's regime. They flourished in black market activities, smuggling caviar, wood, precious stones; currency and car trafficking. Their activities, I believe, helped to mitigate the economic consequences of a disastrous totalitarian ideology. They put oil in the wheels.
The Bratiskys, the "brothers", took advantage of perestroika from the end of the 1980s, with smuggling. The shapnas were able to flock to the cities to form powerful gangs. In Moscow, I worked with the Lyubertsi, Dolgoprudniki, Solnstevskiye and Balashnikhinskiye gangs. This gave me great opportunities, especially in 1994, when I convinced my clients from the Balashiklinsky gang to kill each other with my clients from the Podology gang for the control of Moscow gas stations. They suspected something, they started to look at me differently. Finally, there was a contract on my head, cancelled at the last moment when I shot the principal and his family in their apartment in Skatertni Lane, near the Patriarch's Ponds.
I bet that my death would have been less publicized than that of the wood millionaire Eugene Polevoi and his family in France, in 1995; of the Forbes journalist and author of "Godfather of the Kremlin", Paul Klebnikov, in 2004 or of the journalist Anna Politvskaia, in October 2006.
The Russian mafia was very expeditious, so was I.
I confess that I enjoy working with the Russian underworld. These people are intelligent, very organized and far-sighted. Moreover, they know how to live like great lords. At the top, the Vor, often a man of great value, decides on operations, appointments, plans, settles disputes, and manages the obschlag, the common fund. The Sovetnik, the advisor, usually assists him in legal and financial matters. Downstairs, the shestiorka executes, deals with drug trafficking of heroin, cocaine or synthetic pervitin manufactured in the Czech Republic. The mafia is involved in prostitution, arms trading, fuel detour and corporate racketeering.
The ramifications of the Russians go as far as the United States, notably in Brighton Beach, New York, which has since been nicknamed "Little Odessa", where I often visit. There I got to know Joshua Shapira, the Jewish hitman who had had trouble with the men of Godfather Volkoff. He often helped me, afterwards, when I decided to eliminate several characters from the East Coast milieu. His technique, to make the bodies disappear, has always amazed me.
Russians are very fond of Spain, especially the Costa del Sol. I often went to see the bosses on their boats or in their palaces. The Russians were among the most financially competent people I met. It was a pleasure to talk business with them. To make matters worse, they had a sense of hospitality: they often let me enjoy the beautiful dolls they surrounded themselves with.
It has been said that Russians have fled the country since Putin. This is absolutely false. The researcher Oleg Grechenevsky has amply proved that Putin was put in power by the mafia. This is, by the way, a good thing for Russia, and a good thing for my business.
THE ALBANESE
The Mafias of the Land of the Eagle, the Albanian gangs, took off after the fall of communism in 1992. The agreements between the Italian mafia and the former members of the SHK, the security services of Enver Hodja, allowed to set up a lucrative cigarette smuggling, in connection with the Sacra Corona Unita, from the ports of Durrës and Vlora.
There are about fifteen clans, among which I had my clients, including the Hassan Hassani, the Delila, the Fteja, the Meka, the Mehmedovic, the Cakonie, the Mitera Canski, mainly based in Tirana, Elbassan, Skhoder, Dürres, Fier, Vlöre or Girocastro, where they worked profitably with the Greek underworld.
The Adriatic ports, mainly Dürres and Vlora, served as a hub for heroin from Turkish wholesalers, their cannabis grown in the northwest, in the Puka region, and amphetamine from Macedonia. I had the opportunity to go on board the Scafi, the fast boats that deliver to Italy and European countries, to visit some of their clients. I put them in contact with my Colombian clients when they wanted to start selling cocaine.
The Albanians have specialized in prostitution. Half of the prostitutes in Brussels and three quarters of the girls in Soho, London, are controlled by Albanians.
I had a good friend in this business, an Albanian from London who worked in a prostitution ring. His whole family was in the business. I must admit that he was not, like most Albanian pimps, a gentleman.
I took him down, obviously, as soon as I could. The practical thing, as I said before, with the Albanians is their "Kanoun", their vendetta. It was enough for me to make known a bad move of his family towards another group to start a real collective massacre. Everyone was killed, even the women.
Some members of the UCK, the independence movement of Kosovo, wanted to contact me. They were mainly extorting Kosovar workers abroad, through an NGO, Vendlija Therret, and delivering weapons, taken during the 1997 insurrection, to Muslim terrorists in the Middle East. I did not feel them, these political bandits, I declined the invitation. As a result, I didn't have the opportunity to shoot any Kosovars, except for the father of an old girlfriend, by opportunity. She pissed me off, it was the father who paid.
Through the Albanians, I made interesting contacts with some Buyuks Babas of the Turkish mafia. They were generally involved in the opium trade, heroin from Afghanistan; they also extorted money from companies or bought them up, as in October 1997, when the Turkbank was bought up by the businessman Kurkmar Yifüt, after an agreement between the godfather Alatin Caké and the minister Eyup Ader.
My clients, like Sedat Peker, organized large-scale car theft, the casino industry, and match-fixing. I was more likely to meet them in Istanbul, Western and refined, than in the depths of Eastern Anatolia. Finally, I must admit that it was easier to shoot them in the highlands with a sniper rifle.
The Turks, especially since Erdogan, were beginning to impose themselves everywhere. They made so many enemies that they were easy to eliminate. I could always find a Kurdish independence fighter, an Armenian or Russian mobster to pull the trigger or at least take the blame. Decimating the Turkish gangs was my personal contribution to avenge the victims of the 1915 genocide. I have always been annoyed by the fanaticism of the Turks. They clearly massacred over a million Armenians, Kurds, Greeks, and have never acknowledged their crimes. This deserves a modest rebalancing, I think.
CHINESE TRIADS
The Chinese Triads are difficult to penetrate, but I have a few clients in Sun Ye, in Hong Kong. I also have some in Macau, in the 14 K, the Wo Chi Tau or the Tai Huen Tsai, formed by former Red Guards who have taken refuge in Hong Kong. I was also able to approach the "United Bamboos" of Yunghu, a working-class suburb of Taiwan; the same ones who had assassinated the journalist Henry Liu, exiled in California in 1993, on behalf of the Taiwanese government.
Again, there are many traditions that are quite poetic to our eyes, but these people are often sordid. The leader, the "Long Tou", the dragon head, surrounds himself with a "master of incense" for recruitment, a "patroller of the winds", for intelligence, a "fan of white paper" for accounting, "straw sandals" for communication and "red sticks" for killing.
They also had their rituals in front of an altar, with the finger pricked for a drop of blood, etc. But at least they didn't have the Judeo-Christian pretension of being little saints.
They sold heroin from Burma, cannabis from Sin-Kiang and Yunnan, synthetic ephedrine from Fujian, and even Colombian cocaine since I had put them in touch with my friends in Cali and Medellin.
My Chinese friends ran the lupanars in Taipei, Kuala Lumpur, Manila, Bangkok, Macau, Hong Kong and the Hainan Islands. They made sure that I never slept alone. My old friend Ho Hung Sun, who was nicknamed "Stanley Ho", used to run the Macau casinos magnificently. He was an old fox. I could never really work with those Chinese. They had their own banking channels. They were very autonomous, difficult to penetrate psychologically.
Again, I encouraged my clients, especially in Hong Kong, to invest in real estate development or in tobacco, like my friend Ted Sioeng, who became a tobacco tycoon in Indonesia. To eliminate the Chinese, I had to be very careful. My presence never went unnoticed. I often worked at Polonium 210. I would either offer them expensive tea or chocolates from Europe, filled with the radioactive substance, which they would taste or offer to others.
YAKUZAS
The Japanese Yakuza, called "Boryukudan", violent groups, by the police, are exquisite people, unlike the young Gurentaï, more brutal, who do not respect much, not even honest people.
I have many clients among the Kanto-kai, the gangs of the Tokyo area or the Yamaguchi of Kobe. The excellence of the Yakuza comes from their apprenticeship in the "Young Apprentices' Houses" where the jun-kosei-in learn Jingi (obedience to superiors), Giri (sense of duty) and Ninjo (compassion for the little people)
Each clan, or Ikka, is led by a Kumi-cho, a family head, assisted by his lieutenant, his wagashira, a possible second deputy, the Shatelgashira, and cadres, the saiko-kanbu, who hold the kumi-in troops at the base.
Again, they have rituals, Shinto altars; sake ceremonies, salt ceremonies, two fish ceremonies, etc. The excellence of this education gives the Migawari, where the subordinate can denounce himself of a crime to spare his superior. I also had the honor of witnessing the amputation of a little finger, the Yubitsume, to seal the peace between two yakuzas. I found this quite classy.
The Yakuzas deal in methamphetamines, rob nightclubs, cafes, restaurants, run brothels, illegal gambling. They also control the immigration of Asian prostitutes or Russians with big breasts, which the Nipponese are fond of. This fascination of the little yellow man for the big Slavic mares has always amused me. A simple consultation of the precepts of the Kâma-Sûtra should have enlightened them.
So there were Russian girls who were bored in the land of the rising sun. I tried to console some of them.
My main clients were Sokayas, professional racketeers. They would "protect" company executives or threaten to expose their misdeeds or misconduct. They were mostly bad guys, scavengers that I enjoyed killing, unlike the Boryukudan who, as you can understand, I respected much more.
I also had some clients who were Jiageyas: their business was to "convince" peasants to give up their land to their real estate development companies. Others were Sarakins, managers of Toicha who lent money at usurious rates (60% per year) to their clients. Others, finally, the Songiriya, bought up at low prices the companies that they had often helped to bankrupt.
These last groups were the ones who invested the fastest in my financial products, in construction and real estate loans. There too, I distributed a lot of polonium 210 chocolate...
AFRICA AND THE CARIBBEAN
I'll quickly slide over the African gangs of Lagos, Nigeria, which are involved in heroin trafficking between Asia and America, arms trafficking, diamonds, scams (the famous "scam 419") or the detour of crude oil, from the Niger Delta region. I had several interesting hunting trips there. I used to shoot these sunglassed fools with powerful ammunition, like the 458 Winchester Magnum used to hunt elephants or rhinos. I dressed for the occasion in a big white hunter's outfit, with a large hat. I know, it's a bit provocative, but I like folklore.
When you think of people of color, you might think of the "Posses" in Jamaica or the "Yardies" in the UK. There was a lot of money flowing among those people. But, as with the Shower Posse and the Spangler Posse of New Jersey, who had made their name with Marijuana, the famous "Jamaican Gold", then cocaine, crack, arms dealing, kidnapping or pimping, I didn't find any organization or personalities to take to the next level.
It's terrible to say, but, like in Africa or the West Indies, these guys were too full of dope to really think usefully. There was no way to make them understand the financial investment.
I was, in fact, sequestered for a week by one of these groups, the one dubbed the "scooter gang" in 2017. They had bought, or squatted, an old abandoned boarding school, not far from Homerton, in the suburbs of London.
In this building, coke and cannabis were freely available. There were stoned girls walking around all the rooms, half-naked. There were couples having sex, all of them completely stoned. The music was blaring day and night.
I had gone there for a meeting with the boss, but he was completely stoned, unable to talk to me or even listen.
I was locked in a bathroom, in the dark, and just left there for about ten minutes. As I was about to break down the door, a girl opened the door.
I was wasting my time with these morons. Plus, there were cops lurking all around. It's unfortunate to say, but these people aren't sophisticated enough. They don't have the stature. It's the same with the North Africans in Europe.
In London, I just set the building on fire. Two people died. I haven't been back there, I don't associate with those guys. I don't think I understand them. I'm glad I don't have kids.
THE COLOMBIANS
I will end my story with the Colombian "Cartelitos", the ones I consider my greatest professional success.
After the dismantling of the big cartels, the fall of Pablo Escobar and the Orejuela brothers, it was necessary to reorganize everything.
I came across a new generation of young entrepreneurs who understood that we had to continue the business with a low profile.
There were no longer any charismatic leaders, and apart from the Urabeños and the paramilitary group of Rastrojoros, there were only a multitude of small entrepreneurs who lived very well hidden.
They bought coca paste from collectors who went around the plantations, refined it in small laboratories scattered in the jungle. They had the cocaine transported to the United States by people from the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, the Venezuelans of the Cartel del Sol in the province of Julia, or by the Mexicans. The goal was to make transportation random, with lots of independent carriers that were difficult to monitor or infiltrate.
My new Colombian clients run their business like good fathers. They don't get noticed, they don't play politics. They invest in legal businesses and put their money with me. They invite me to weekend barbecues or family fishing trips. Again, this is the new generation, the one that has evolved with the times to last.
The only thing that bothers me about these people is that I don't want to kill them, or even hurt them a little. When I see them in the midst of their kids, in rather quiet families, and I know they avoid blood and prefer to stay in the shade, I don't know what it does to me. I relax, I catch myself laughing with them without any ulterior motive. It's almost like happiness.
MURDER ON A GRAND SCALE.
I think I'm going to give up this job, I don't enjoy killing people as much anymore. It's become complicated to kill people nowadays, between the drones, the cameras, the cookies, everything is monitored. It's time for me to retire.
The COVID crisis has restricted my movements, like everyone else's. The financial circuits are set up, with lots of penguins with ties who don't invent anything and are well under orders.
In this age of globalization, if I were to feel the urge to eradicate, it would be to shoot members of the globalist oligarchy. But those people are untouchable. We don't know where they live, they erase what we can tell about them online. They are well hidden.
These fuckers have managed to enslave the planet, to control our comings and goings, to vaccinate people with shit. They control everything, they have files on everyone. Now we're dealing with real bad guys, real demon worshippers.
I admit, however, that I admire the professionalism of these globalist elites: they are anonymous, they control everything and they will kill us by the billions if nothing stops them. They are professionals, there is nothing to say. A third world war is beautiful.
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