Global Markets (5)
After the nerve-wracking smuggling operation wrapped up, I returned to Seoul. I fell asleep on the way back with Cheol-min and had no idea how we even got home. The moment I stepped inside, the tension drained out of me and I nearly collapsed. Secretary Ko saw it and asked if I was all right. Whew… it felt like I’d come back from the dead. I pulled myself together, sat down at my desk, and Secretary Ko came in saying he had something to report.
“Go ahead.”
“I’m sorry to bother you when you’re not feeling well, but I thought you needed to know.”
“It’s fine. Tell me.”
“It’s about Manager Kim, the one who was specially promoted.”
I had a bad feeling. I straightened up and asked, “What happened?”
“During his first transaction after the promotion, there was a delivery accident.”
Well, that sort of thing happens in this line of work. “And?”
“Five kilograms of marijuana were seized.”
That one stung. I asked for the full story and Secretary Ko handed me a written report. An accident report. We really shouldn’t be leaving evidence like this lying around, but I decided not to bring it up again. I’d already warned him a week earlier; he’d just say he’d do better next time.
Reading through it, I saw it was simply bad luck. They were supposed to meet in international waters between China and Korea. When the Korean and Chinese vessels made contact, the Korean coast guard thought another fight had broken out and moved in. I remembered seeing it on the news—something about crab fishing. The media had been making noise about Chinese boats stripping Korean fishing grounds. I’d seen Chinese crews pull out axes and weapons to threaten people before. If the coast guard had just shown up to mediate, everyone could have gone their separate ways. Instead the Chinese crew accused us of betrayal and resisted. Of course the coast guard cracked down. That’s when they found the product being transported and seized it.
“Why are we even discussing this? We handle delivery accidents according to the rules, don’t we?” We had a responsibility system in place to prevent exactly these problems. Simple enough: if you took the goods and something went wrong, or if you sold them and couldn’t collect payment, you covered the loss out of your own pocket.
“The Chinese organization has filed a claim.”
They screw up and then try to pin it on us?
“Contact Executive Director Ha—no, forget it. Secretary Ko and I will handle this ourselves. We can’t keep leaning on the Executive Director and Director Jo forever.”
“Secretary Ko, what are our options?”
“I see two possible approaches.”
I agreed. We could fight it or negotiate. “Manager Kim’s opinion will matter here.”
“I think so too. If the client is worth keeping, we settle and continue doing business. If not, we cut ties.”
“Understood. I’ll reach out to him.”
The next day our coast guard proudly showed off their trophy on the news. They boasted about their victory and spun the story completely backward, claiming they had caught drug smugglers importing from China. Sorry, but we were the exporters. They even claimed they had rescued a Korean vessel that was the victim. The following day we received Manager Kim’s proposed solution: settle. The client had solid connections and Guanxi with him. Guanxi—the Chinese system of social networks and influential relationships essential for business and survival. It wasn’t just personal ties; it was a web of mutual trust, respect, obligation, and responsibility that helped everyone grow together. The accident was the accident. If we cleaned it up properly, things would be fine.
The next week I received word of another failed delivery. Apparently we still couldn’t manage without Executive Director Ha.
“Executive Director, was my judgment wrong?”
“No. In my opinion, someone inside leaked information.”
“I’ll investigate whether it came from Manager Kim’s side or the Chinese client.”
A week later Manager Kim took responsibility for the second accident, procured replacement goods, and sent them—only to have them seized again, this time at a Chinese port. Three times was too many. Director Jo and the IT team traced the leak during the process.
“It came from the Chinese side.”
“Did the Chinese organization fail to manage their own people?”
“It looks like a rival group planted an informant.”
Poor Manager Kim. He must have burned through a year’s salary by now.
“Manager Kim has requested armed support. He wants to help his Guanxi contact.”
How did he even know about our security team? If information was leaking, this was serious. I asked Executive Director Ha how Manager Kim, who had only been a section chief three weeks earlier, knew about the security team’s existence. He answered calmly.
“Fear is as effective a tool of governance as any.”
He had been quietly letting people know the organization possessed armed force. People only listened when they were afraid.
“I don’t like using the security team like mercenaries, but we have to send them, don’t we?”
“Yes. Supporting him is the right move. It also fits the organization’s current atmosphere. If we do nothing after being hit, we’ll be seen as weak.”
“Approved.”
I contacted the security team and told them to prepare for deployment. When they heard it was a China operation, they got excited and promised to show real results this time. They said they had reflected a lot after the last cocaine recovery mission. When I told them they had done well, they admitted their physical and mental stamina had dropped and they were tightening discipline again.
The next day I felt a wave of doubt about the scale of support we were sending to China. A country with that population really was on another level. They sent over the rival organization’s chart—more than three hundred members. I wondered what fifteen of our people could possibly accomplish. When I voiced my concern that the opposing group was too large, Director Jo backed me up.
“Remove the people at the top and the rest will be absorbed on their own.”
Three days later I heard the security team had departed for Tianjin and put the matter out of my mind for a while. The U.S. presidential election had ended, and the global drug market was starting to shake. Gonzales had been right. Just holding product would make money. As America—the world’s number-one drug consumer—stretched its legs, players who had been lying low began to move. The Skylight community grew active, with more and more posts looking for product. Because I had listened to Gonzales’ foresight, I happened to have a large stockpile. Gonzales was the main reason, but Flag Uncle and Ali’s greed had also played a part. They kept contacting me whenever they had the chance, begging me to buy more. When I told them I had plenty, they sold at a discount. Just in case, I bought everything. The money sitting idle in SkyBank had been bothering me anyway. I had read a finance book that mentioned the multiplier effect—money spent circulates and generates even greater economic impact. In simple terms, if I spent ten billion, that money would keep moving through the market and multiply. I placed bids on large-scale deals involving marijuana, opium, cocaine, and the heroin we had recently started importing. The LA contact I had dealt with last year was still alive, so we did business again. There was also a European shipment to send. Europe turned out to be a surprisingly large market. When I tried to move cocaine there, Gonzales seemed the best option. I passed the order to him and he thanked me with a commission. As I handled bigger transactions, certain IDs became familiar, and I noticed several local bosses in each region. Talking with them during deals taught me a lot—their way of thinking, how bosses operated, and global trends. My own standing among the bosses seemed to rise as well; my temperature climbed to 38.5 degrees. Withdrawal fees dropped and the bulletin board expanded. At 36 degrees the small-scale trading board had its regional restrictions lifted, so I could now filter by country. Out of curiosity I checked the Chinese board—it looked exactly like ours. I doubted I would ever use it. Country-specific community boards appeared too, but nothing was posted on Korea’s. I supposed no one with a 38.5-degree rating would bother writing “I’m here.” Skylight seemed to have the concept wrong. Looking ahead, the next update would probably loosen community restrictions further.
While responding to demand, I ended up connecting with someone from Boston. He gave me advice that felt nosy at the time, so I just nodded along. Later, when I mentioned it to Secretary Ko, the story checked out. The U.S. government was about to start tightening regulations.
“Makes sense. If they loosened things, they were bound to clamp down again.”
I needed to prepare for a downturn. Preparing for contraction while business was booming wasn’t easy, though—sales were simply too good. Domestic organizations were exporting as well, so the sales division’s revenue rose. Nakamura from Japan also requested product. Even our brother in the Philippines said he couldn’t accept more shipments because local supply was short and they were struggling to meet domestic demand. I happily cleared out my inventory. By the time Secretary Ko’s dark circles reached his chin from overwork, I was finally able to give him a vacation. Why? Because the United States had officially declared it would tighten the screws.