#13. Eclosion (3)
The eclosions I had been waiting for arrived like successive waves. Unrelated incidents, yet as if they had all been biding their time.
After three tedious transfers from Utah and one long night, I arrived at Hong Kong International Airport at 1 p.m. Exhausted from fitful sleep all night, I answered the call from White Chief's granddaughter as she requested.
The number Mashath used belonged to her grandfather, the Chief.
"So, in short, you want us to connect you with a client looking for weapons? Without revealing any client information, on the condition that the casino handles the purchase and delivery?"
「Yes.」
"You may have heard from the Chief, but I'm not the type to sell arms to just anyone for profit. I only proceed after assessing the risk, with at least minimal client info... or some idea of the merchandise's intended use."
We don't store goods anywhere, sell to anyone recklessly, or exchange payment arbitrarily. That's the basics of smuggling—no compromises without extraordinary circumstances.
Deals where the buyer's purpose is unclear can backfire on me. For instance, what if a bomb I sold went off in the U.S. Capitol? Nothing more awkward.
"So, at minimum, I need some information."
Mashath refused this reasonable demand.
「I'm sorry. I must ask for your understanding on that.」
"Understanding? This isn't a matter for understanding."
「I'll stake the casino's and tribe's credit on it. Delivering the goods to the final client is Diamond Casino's role, so I guarantee it won't cause you any trouble.」
Guarantee? In this business, no deal is ever 100% safe. The profits we arms dealers make mostly come from risk management.
Besides, the Mexican side of my casino investment was just laying foundations—selecting people, building structures. So, having the casino handle receipt now meant the weapons' final destination was inside the U.S. Likely the use as well.
Unless they hire separate shippers to launder the route.
But given the casino's tight finances, adding shippers was unlikely. Which meant the weapons weren't ordinary firearms. Why order personal guns from an overseas dealer like me when America overflows with them and ammo?
"Miss Mashath. Could I speak directly with the Chief?"
After a brief pause, the reply came.
「Grandfather can't come to the phone right now.」
"If he's busy, I can wait."
「It's not that...」
The trailing off was a clear red flag.
"Then what? It's around 11 p.m. there—surely not bedtime already?"
「...」
In an ordinary home, 11 p.m. isn't too late for bed. But the Chief ran a casino. Like other Native casinos, Diamond stayed open till midnight, then took another hour-plus to clean and settle accounts.
After silence, Mashath spoke in a slightly subdued tone.
「Since you're a friend and benefactor of the tribe—not just anyone—I'll be frank. Grandfather can't handle business due to health issues. I'm acting as chief as his successor. He made this clear in advance, and the organization's executives agree.」
"The Chief can't function?"
「Yes.」
"What happened? COVID?"
「No. We beat that with your help.」
"Then?"
「...He went to the D.C. protests to encourage our people, got shoved by police, fell, and suffered a skull fracture and concussion.」
"Damn."
The unexpected news complicated my mental calculations. Losses and gains from this accident. How much it accelerated the tribe's eclosion.
「His age makes the aftereffects severe. Too dizzy to walk well, memory not what it was, constant nausea preventing proper meals...」
Mashath's voice grew tinged with resentment. She'd maintained composure befitting a leader's proxy, but without innate genius, unshakable calm comes only from experience.
Having finished my math, I proposed.
"How about treatment in Korea? I can help."
「Another debt to you—」
"Better than your hospitals charging $1,000 per paper cup of meds or $2,000 per surgical glove. Think seriously. What's best for the Chief."
After hesitation, Mashath sighed softly.
「...Thank you. We'll consider and get back to you.」
I hoped for a yes later. Taking the Chief under my wing would make pulling the displaced tribespeople into my sphere easier.
Even if he became a vegetable or died from aftereffects, my aid would positively influence his admirers long-term.
Having extended this calculated kindness, I steered back.
"Now, to the point. What type and quantity does the client want?"
「You're approving the deal?」
"Don't rush. I'll decide after hearing details."
「We need bombs.」
"Bombs?"
「Yes. Industrial or military doesn't matter—equivalent to 200 kilograms of TNT, with remote detonators. One per kilo, please.」
"Delivery and deadline?"
「Three months max. To the casino, if possible.」
200 kilos TNT. Modest for a direct request from me—insulting from another dealer. But quantity wasn't the issue. Why was the casino, new to this market, suddenly brokering arms?
At least the buyers are amateurs.
In America, the biggest hurdle to bombs is detonators matching the size. Explosives? Steal ammonium nitrate fertilizer or disassemble billions of annual bullets.
Bullet propellants: single-base is nitrocellulose (cotton powder) or nitroguanidine; double-base mixes nitrocellulose and nitroglycerin. Detonation velocities over 8,000 m/s either way.
But without proper primers/fuzes, power suffers—slow burn reduces peak force, or it becomes solid fuel.
Amateurs compensate with volume. But that precludes precision strikes—just big booms.
Needing external bombs meant lacking detonator production. Amateurs.
200kg bombs, 200 remote fuzes. Targets for 200 dispersed strikes. Casino jumping into brokering. Executives not opposing. Amateurs hiding identity from me...
Trouble for the amateurs? Or this novice proxy chief and Diamond Casino?
Interlocking keywords pointed to one likelihood: close ties between buyers and casino—or casino as buyer.
Enduring discrimination, stolen sacred mountains, holy sites blasted for border walls, mining rights, pandemic humiliations, Chief's accident. Desert tribes' grudges grew.
Anticipating the future, I delayed commitment.
"I'll review internally and reply. We'll discuss price and terms then."
「How long?」
"Decision within three days max."
「Understood. Hoping for good news.」
Call ended.
"What do you think?"
Suyeon, who had listened via shared earbuds, removed hers and answered.
"Most likely tribe-backed sabotage."
Sabotage: destroying facilities as resistance. She agreed with me.
Low odds of spaced detonations. First boom alerts all U.S. counterterror—suicide after two or three.
So, 200kg likely simultaneous. Obvious targets: two.
"Where would you hit?"
"Not border wall—Waukulik sacred mountain."
"Why?"
"First, holier than holy sites. Second, risks provoking wall-obsessed president. Third, block outsiders without hitting summit observatory."
Third was new to me.
"Block how?"
"Blast the road. Rugged terrain, single vehicle path. Collapse cliffs—disable without casualties. Publicize theft sans backlash."
"You remember if one or two roads? Never connected to us."
"Glanced at map once, recalled."
Recalling casual glances was extraordinary.
The re-elected president pushed border wall harder. Support stronger amid endless migrants.
Not finishing it—too costly; better enforcement. But visuals for scared public. Pass to next admin.
Tribes touching wall? War with infamously unreasonable president.
Abandon ruined sites, focus sacred mountain: milder, smarter.
Whether mild action draws mild response? Unknown. Hope it doesn't boil over too soon.
Accept the request...
Better propose training over finished goods. Teach bomb-making. Ensures my safety.
TATP ideal: triacetone triperoxide. Fruity blast ending past hunt on Chief's request. "Mother of Satan" for ease—even high school dropouts learn quick. One-week training beats three-month deadline.
ANFO fine, but tighter precursor watch.
Thoughts sorted, I stood. My overdue subordinate, Vice Chair Park Mi-joo, finally arrived.