Material Risk

It was misting when Lee stepped out of the small yellow cab. The asphalt was emitting steam from the heat of the evening. Pedestrians rubbed shoulders as they navigated the narrow street with all it’s cart vendors and mopeds buzzing by. Lee’s consulting practice had taken him to many far-out stretches of the globe, but the southeast Asian countries always stood out as the most unique. He found himself in Thailand this time on a typical client request.

Typical for Lee was anything but typical for most businessmen. His brand of expertise was in regulatory affairs, specifically foreign entities looking to access the US Market. His clientele was the sort that wanted to keep certain elements of their enterprise off the books. He facilitated by helping them set up shell companies and blocker entities to reroute earnings. Most people would call what Lee did laundering and tax-evasion, but his work wasn’t as illicit as that. He operated in a legal gray zone; nothing he advised his clients to do was against the law per-se. He made a point to know as little as possible about how his clients earned their income. The better for plausible deniability.

“This address you asked” spat out the driver in broken English between puffs of his cigarette. The humidity made his skin slick and his brown shirt looked soiled. Lee handed the thin man a roll of baht. “Kap Kun Krap” Lee spoke the native thank you to the empty space where the cab used to be as the driver sped away. He took in his surroundings, noting the shady characters hanging around the shopfronts. The hooligans looked like they were waiting around for the fading twilight to extinguish to carry out whatever nefarious pursuits kept them busy after dark. This wasn’t the first time Lee met a client in a sketchy part of town.

He approached a doorway underneath a sign that read Thale h̄mxk. The wooden door was barricaded by a large man in a light grey suit, midnight blue satin shirt and black tie. Lee had to squint to see the microscopic earpiece in the man’s gigantic head and the bulge on his right-side hip. The sentinel did not stoop to greet him. Instead, a young woman dressed just as sharply as the guard stepped out from behind the man.

“Welcome, Mr. Neirdecki,” the pretty woman smiled as she greeted Lee in accented English. She bowed slightly with her arms tight to her sides. “Mr. Chen is delighted to meet with you. If you’d be so kind to accompany me this way.” She gestured towards the entrance. The doorman broke from his stoic pose to quickly pat down Lee. Upon clearing him, the guard stepped to the side, granting access to the establishment. Another suited man opened the door for both Lee and his greeter.

They entered what looked like an upscale restaurant. Patrons sat at large circular tables with champagne-colored tablecloths, which were amply spaced apart. White columns ascended from the lacquered hardwood floor to hip height along the walls. Atop of them were various vases and flower displays in Greek fashion. The beige walls were adorned with white and turquoise sheer curtains and a small fountain in the back corner of the room rounded out the simple but elegant decorations. It was towards this fountain that Lee and his host proceeded.

Adjacent to this fountain was a hidden corner and a slender hallway leading to some other part of the building. Rounding the turn, Lee’s host extended her arm out, indicating for him to advance first. His heart rate quickened, and he felt condensation on his palms as he voluntarily entrapped himself. It would be stupid for Mr. Chen to want to do anything to him here before they even had a chance to meet. But the combination of being in a foreign land and his vulnerability in the hallway induced a sense of claustrophobia.

He accelerated his pace down the corridor until he reached another door. This time it swung open upon approach. On the other side of the threshold, another suited man nodded to Lee and muttered something in Thai to his host. She was silently right behind Lee the whole time. Surprising given the stilettos she wore, thought Lee. The man and the woman moved to opposite flanks on the inside of the doorway and faced the interior of the room, where there was an octagonal table centered in the space. A single overhead lamp provided the sole illumination for the room, leaving the edges near the walls shrouded. As he entered, Lee could tell there were plain metallic shelves with milkcrates and boxes full of supplies, among other oddities. He didn’t spend too long examining the room, as he didn’t want to give the impression he was snooping. He just scanned for basic tactical evidence, noting the armed guard against the opposite wall and the lack of exits.

“Welcome Mr. Neirdecki” exclaimed a short round man standing at the opposite end of the table, with his arms held out wide. Mr. Chen was dressed in a pale blue linen button-down shirt and khakis. He wore rectangular spectacles with slim designer frames in front of his small dark eyes. Thin black hairs on his upper lip gave the impression of a mustache growing in. His graying hair was styled to the side in a neat combover. He grinned wide as he offered his right hand to shake. His left hand was now resting at his side. Lee traversed the room and greeted the man.

“Thank you for inviting me to your establishment, Mr. Chen. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Lee.” Maybe it was bad practice to resort to such informality so early, but Lee liked to do it as he set up rapport with his clients. Familiarity built trust, which was crucial in his profession.

“Very well” Mr. Chen responded, his accent flawless. Given his name and his proficiency, Lee guessed that Mr. Chen was of Chinese or Taiwanese descent and learned English early in life at an international school. “I hope the smell of cigar smoke does not bother you, Lee.”

“Quite the contrary, I’d like to enjoy one as well if you’d indulge me”. Lee said. He noticed that Mr. Chen did not ask for permission to smoke in front of his guest, subtly establishing that Lee was in his house now. Lee figured by asking to join him, he would advance their relationship. After all, strangers don’t ask for cigars from each other, only friends do that. Mr. Chen leaned over where he stood to address the doorman in Thai. The man moved to Lee’s side and reached into his breast pocket to produce a small plastic wrapped cigar. Lee took the item and opened the packet to extract the goods inside. Mr. Chen, who reverted to sitting, pushed a cutter, butane lighter and extra tray over towards Lee’s side of the table. He began speaking as Lee sat and prepared to smoke.

“Mr. Lee, I must let you know you come highly recommended by my friends in Singapore.” Lee knew exactly the friends Mr. Chen was referring to. That job had been a nightmare, and he was hoping to avoid a similar situation.

“We will be asking for something similar to what you did for their operation,” said Mr. Chen, as if he read Lee’s mind. “Our business is more mature, so a lot of the legal infrastructure you needed to set up for them will already be in place here. The caveat is that we are looking to carry out significantly more activity abroad, which may require more work on your end.”

“Well,” Lee contemplated, releasing a puff “I’ve examined your most recent financials, and your capitalization is certainly high enough to attract attention. Your request is doable, depending on the scale of operations you plan on bringing stateside”

“We want to expand our program costs by 50%, with all the additional activity taking place in the U.S” interjected Mr. Chen curtly. It took Lee everything he had to not choke down his cigar. He knew better than to show surprise at his clients’ ambitions.

“That can be done,” replied Lee after a pensive pause, “provided I have the proper staffing available.” It was a stretch, but it wasn’t a lie. He loved when he didn’t have to lie, it allowed him to keep his whole act more authentic. Lee had an etiquette coach who helped him conduct himself while doing business with these kinds of people. His was no normal etiquette coach, though. Instead of learning table manners, Lee learned how to confidently present himself in front of dangerous types from a former Marine Security Guard turned special agent with the US Diplomatic Security Service. He would be proud if he could see Lee maintaining open posture and natural eye contact while delivering his assessment.

“Of course. We would not have you come all the way out to meet without those necessities already in place.” Ensured Mr. Chen. “But before continuing, I must insist that we eat first. I hope you brought your appetite, Mr. Lee.”

“Yes, I can eat” responded Lee.

Mr. Chen peeked around Lee to waive in a few servers. The white-clad workers brought in silver platters with steaming bowls on top of them. They also presented a bottle of whiskey to Mr. Chen, who scrutinized it for a minute and then nodded satisfyingly. The bowls and glasses were placed in front of the two businessmen. The bowls contained a transparent yellowish broth, like chicken stock. There were noodles floating in the otherwise plain soup. Lee took a scoop of just broth and tasted a vinegary bite. Then he had a spoonful with the noodles, and this time he noted a strange texture. The noodles were flaccid, but still had some bounce to them along with a certain crunchiness. Then men briefly made small talk amid the intermittent periods of silence between puffs and sips and slurps.

“Shark Fin,” grinned Mr. Chen, referring to their suppers. “To be honest I find the practice disgusting and unsustainable. But the tradition goes back for so long. I am deeply rooted to my heritage, and so I cannot let the tradition die.” Lee was busy navigating how to best eat the dish, so Mr. Chen took this opportunity to expand on his earlier request.

“Without getting into specifics, our operation helps to create more suitable habitat for all ocean life, including the very sharks we are consuming. We are like a charity, you could say, except that we also take in profits. Everybody wins from the employees to the shareholders to our friend who lent his appendage to our meal tonight. Without my company this fish likely wouldn’t have hatched in the first place. This is why it is so important for my business to operate in the west,” Mr. Chen continued. “But I cannot manage in the current U.S. regulatory atmosphere and tax system. The cost of compliance would grind us down to dust.”

“I understand completely, and it’s why I do what I do.” Responded Lee, finding himself conveniently between gulps. He had to admit that soup was not unpleasant, though he wouldn’t ask for it ever. It was just odd, that’s all he could think about the meal. Who would have come up with such a custom? “You can trust that you have my full discretion.”

“I know so. I can tell from your reputation and our meeting tonight that you can be of help to my operation. Where are you staying again?” Mr. Chen asked.

“The Flamingo,” replied Lee.

“In the morning, a car will come to get you from your hotel and bring you to my offices. You will meet with my one of my directors, Erica Swardson. She specializes in foreign affairs and you two will collaborate on the details of our expansion. Her staff are among the best employees in my operation, so I trust you’ll have no issues with resourcing.” With that, Mr. Chen pushed himself away from the table and his empty bowl. Somehow, he was able to finish the soup despite doing most of the talking. Lee also rose from his seat and the two men bowed slightly to each other. Lee left his half-finished glass of scotch and cigar, and empty bowl on the table. They clasped hands in one final handshake and Lee was escorted out of the building by the pretty woman again.

As he got in his cab, he developed a queasy feeling about the work starting the next day. He was used to the nagging sentiment in his body after meetings like this, though. Lee knew it was the physical manifestation of his subconscious telling him that this line of work couldn’t last forever. Despite being aware of this, he was addicted to the work. Or maybe it was the danger that kept him feeling alive. That possibility rang around in Lee’s head while his car evaporated into the heavy night air.