Snowing in Bali (6 page)

Out the window Rafael taunted, ‘You can't call your mamma now, you're going to die out here, my friend.' The Peruvian, now on his knees with his hands clasped in prayer, begged, ‘Please don't kill me.'

Jando kicked him hard in the chest. ‘You pussy, stand up and fight.' Sprawled on the ground, Borrador sobbed, ‘I don't want to fight.' Jando whacked him several times in the back of the head. ‘Why do you want to fuck our business, mother­fucker?' he blasted, hauling him up by a clump of hair.

‘I didn't do nothing, it was my friend.'

‘Bullshit,' Rafael interjected.

‘I need money, quick, that's why we sold like that. Sorry,' he sobbed.

To scare him more, Jando whipped a knife out of his pocket and held its blade against his throat. ‘Motherfucker, we aren't going to kill you tonight, but leave Bali now. And if you ever come back and sell this shit for less than $25,000, I will slit your throat.'

In the car, Rafael was starting to get antsy, worried a passing car might stop. ‘Jando, let's go quick, let's go.' Jando bent down menacingly close to Borrador's face, warning him not to breathe a word of this tête à tête to Nanang or else, slashing his finger across his throat for emphasis.

‘I won't say nothing, sorry, sorry,' Borrador whimpered.

In the next few days Rafael heard from the other Peruvians that Borrador had gone back home to the communal house several dealers shared near Kerobokan, whining that Rafael was going to kill him. No one sympathised. They were grateful Rafael had dealt with him, angry too that he'd been undercutting their businesses.

Borrador flew out to Peru the next day and didn't return for six months, when his problems would become insurmountable with the disappearance of his English girlfriend Kate Osborne, in a case that would make global headlines.

Drug dealer justice wasn't always a heated beating – it could be cold and calculated. Paranoid Poca, in the habit of ripping Rafael off and probably others, had organised a horse to run from Peru to Bali with 2 kilos of cocaine. Without a hitch, the horse flew past the post. But when Poca collected and opened the bag, it was a stinging blow.

‘Ah fuck, I have some really bad news,' he sighed to Alberto and another dealer who'd been hired to work on this delivery, babysitting the coke and finding a buyer. They were sitting at a restaurant, waiting for instructions, but instead got the news flash – the job was off, there was no coke. Poca had been sent perfectly packed . . . bags of sand.

I asked him, ‘What the fuck did you do wrong, man?' For sure, he fucked up somehow. Maybe he didn't pay last time, so this was someone in Peru saying, ‘Fuck you'. He still had to pay $10,000 for the horse and for hotels and flight.

Did you see a funny side?

Yeah, for sure. We were laughing and joking like, ‘Which beach is it from?' and, ‘Okay, so how much can we sell Peruvian sand for in Bali, maybe $100 a kilo?'

Was Poca laughing too?

No, he wasn't laughing, for sure he wasn't.

– Alberto

CHAPTER FIVE

M3, THE SUNSET CAR WASH

Many people in Peru dream about getting a job like that – to come to Bali, get $10,000.

– Rafael

Bali's M3 Car Wash Café in Sunset Road was set in a unique building, prominent on the four-lane highway that stretched along the spine of Kuta, Legian and Seminyak. It was a concrete shed the size of a soccer pitch. Its unusual aesthetics stood out even among the oddly eclectic architecture in Bali, with round holes cut into a metal façade. Drug dealers, musicians, politicians and journalists all came to sports nights there; stories were written about the refined water M3 used to wash luxury cars, but never the fact that M3 was a giant money laundry. Its owner, nicknamed Chino from his Chinese heritage, was Bali's biggest drug boss, and regarded as the island's Chinese mafioso.

In Sunset Road, this guy had a fucking big place for tuning cars, you know pimping cars, Porsches, Mercedes, to make them more fast and furious. Chino was a champion of tuning cars, Indonesia champion five time, they take Porsche and pimp you know . . . neon lights, big wheels.

– Andre

That place was only to wash money, make clean; his ecstasy factory was in Java.

– Rafael

Chino and Rafael had clicked as soon as they met and quickly forged a business relationship, with Chino insisting Rafael sell exclusively to him. Their preferred place to talk was at sea. The two would meet at Chino's beachfront jet-ski rental spot in Nusa Dua, jump onto powerful jet-skis and tear way out, then spin to an abrupt stop, inches apart. They'd cut the motors, leaving only the sounds of water slapping against the hulls.

In the distance they could see the curved stretch of Nusa Dua beach, with its many hotels and crowds of tourists. Out here, the water gave them privacy, creating the ideal boardroom – quiet with no bugs or risk of anything but fish overhearing. Using the sand and surf as his office had earned Rafael his nickname ‘Beach Boy' among the island's drug dealers.

This day, exhilarated after their wild dash out, they were ready to talk tactics, and figure out the best way of using Chino's Porsche to traffic a few kilos of blow to Australia. His car had just won a tuning competition in Jakarta and was being sent to a motor show in Sydney. This was a slam-dunk for a creative drug trafficker – a waste not to use it. Rafael's creative brain lit up with ideas. Undulating on their jet-skis, they agreed the best strategy was to fill the Porsche's spoiler with coke and cover it in resin, ensuring it would emit no smell.

It worked without a hitch. Chino flew to Sydney with his team and a spare spoiler and simply switched them, selling the 3 kilos of coke to one of his many connections and earning a quick $450,000.

Known as the world's multi-billion-dollar glamour drug, coke's array of euphemisms included snow, blow, Charlie, white dust and nose candy. Given the many borders it had to cross to get to Sydney, prices often skyrocketed to $250,000 a kilo. And using the police method for working out the value of a bust to trumpet it to the press, Chino's 3 kilos in Sydney would be worth well over a million dollars in ‘street value' – assuming each gram sold for about $350 and the 3 kilos would be cut and mixed into 6 kilos.

Chino was au fait with Sydney, given it was a drug bosses' mecca on his doorstep, and often spent months at a time there, slinging cash to an Australian consulate official to give him visas in his rotating false passports. He set up an ecstasy factory in Sydney's beachside suburb of Maroubra so he could feed the voracious Australian market without crossing international borders. An Australian car wash café chain gave him the inspiration for his Bali car wash.

Chino's life in drugs started in Bali in the early 1990s when he was invited by a friend to join a rock band. He was in his early twenties and moved from Java to Bali, making $15 a night playing keyboards to tourists in pubs and private clubs. He played alongside guitarist Manto and bassist Putu Indrawan, once both stars in the Bali band, Harley Angel, critiqued by the
Jakarta Post
as ‘arguably the best rock band Bali has ever produced'. The guys covered songs by bands like Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple. Chino's favourite was Pink Floyd's ‘Comfortably Numb' – an omen, perhaps, for a state he'd one day need to get used to.

His life seemed as simple as his signature clothes – a baseball cap, sunglasses, sandals, T-shirt and Capri pants – but at this point Chino was sizzling with ambition. He bought a two-door Honda Civic, rented a house in Kuta, and started a T-shirt business, while covertly moving into ecstasy. When the band split after two years, they lost touch until one day, many years later, Chino rocked up at bassist Putu's unsophisticated family restaurant in a back street of Denpasar in a shiny new green Porsche.

One day he came to my
warung
[restaurant] by Porsche and told me, ‘I'm rich now.' ‘What?' ‘Yes, I'm rich.' I hadn't seen him for a long time, and suddenly he comes here with a fancy car and I'm wondering, ‘Why are you rich now?'

Did you ask him?

Yes. He just smiles, so I didn't ask deeper. I was just happy to have a rich friend who still remembers me.

But were you surprised?

Yeah, very, very surprised. Basically, I didn't know for a long time why this guy was rich.

– Putu

Despite the new Porsche, Putu noticed Chino still wore the same simple clothes; the only subtle difference was his sandals were now Louis Vuitton.

Chino invited Putu to bring in his car for a wash at M3. Putu drove a 1977 Toyota Hilux, so he declined, but he did accept invitations to lunch at the M3 café, where Chino would slip him 400 or 500 thousand rupiah [$40 or $50] from his wallet – for most Balinese, about half their monthly salary.

For me he's Robin Hood but for other people he is evil, and I don't care.

Why?

It's his own business, not my business.

– Putu

He also invited Putu to the grand opening party of M3, held months after it was operating. People from many walks of Chino's life turned up that night, from musicians and local journalists to drug dealers, including Rafael. If the journalists were aware M3 was a giant laundry, they didn't write it. There were many nights when Chino threw open the doors for parties. The glassed-off café would come alive with music, sometimes with ex–band members Putu and Manto jamming, or large screens erected to broadcast international sports events, while kids, including his own son, played video games.

The drug boss had created a grand Bali life, with status, close ties to politicians and cops, real estate and ritzy toys. He owned a large property on the river in the heart of Legian, with a house, swimming pool and huge parking area for his favourite toys – a fleet of prestige cars and motorbikes. The jet-ski rental business comprised a pier and racks on the sand to stack his 20 machines. He was also building a go-kart racetrack, and dreamt of one day hosting the world go-kart championships in Bali.

To stay safe, Chino flew high on the radar with his legitimate businesses, or laundries, but was able to use his smarts, connections and cash to switch any radar off the true source of his immense wealth. There was no better place for the slinging of bribes than Bali and Chino had a number of police on his payroll, with local papers reporting he was ‘a close friend of some high-rank government officials'. Police officers working for him would sometimes even pass over envelopes filled with cash to the island's drug dealers.

Sometimes I go to Chino's place, M3, to receive $10,000, or $20,000, and the cop, in uniform, full uniform, gives me the money, says, ‘Hey, Andre, Chino left this money for you.' ‘Oh, thanks for this.' I would never talk to him about drugs, and he never asked, but for sure the cop knew it's cash for drugs, because he was working for the big boss of cocaine in Bali and moving money for him. The police work for good money to give Chino protection. In a police job in Bali, how much do they get? Two million per month [$200]. Chino pays $2000 per month for the guy just to stay inside and not let the other cops in. Chino is the big boss who works directly with the police.

– Andre

Chino was slightly short, slightly plump, with a round happy face and swollen lips. With his easy laugh, intelligence and quiet nature, he was the sort of person most people liked. To him, what he was doing to make his millions was illegal, but not sinister. It was business. He did it professionally, selling the best quality drugs to voracious markets. He worked hard, making himself and others filthy rich, especially anyone who could help slip drugs past the Australian borders.

Just being a conduit to a pliable customs officer at any Austra­lian sea or air border could turn someone into an overnight millionaire. Corrupt customs officials quickly became obscenely rich. Chino used strategies to ensure they kept their jobs by sporadically ‘throwing a load'. Once Chino had a border contact, it was vital to keep him in that position and ensure he didn't incur suspicion for never busting a load. So Chino would send a container especially to bust. To make it look even more legit and successful, he'd sometimes pay someone to do a bit of jail time. Chino could then keep using his guy to clear his drugs. This was a trick used by big drug traffickers across the globe.

For Rafael, working with Chino made things quick, easy and safe. He could just sell the bulk of his coke to someone he liked and trusted; they were friends now, but it was the business that bonded them. The deal was that any coke Rafael got, he'd sell to Chino so that he could try to have some control over Bali's cocaine market, to augment his booming ecstasy business, renowned for its world-class pills.

My pills are the best in the world.

– Chino

The deal suited Rafael, despite riling the other Indonesian buyers, who were being overshadowed by Chino.

It was hard because they knew each other. They got jealous. It was a buyers' war. They say, ‘Why are you selling to him and not to me?'

But Chino wanted to control, he had big eyes. He says, ‘You are going to work with me; you cannot sell to Nanang or anybody, only to me. Come to me with everything you bring. Anything that comes from your friends, I want to buy. Just bring it to me and I will give you commission. You don't need to take any risk.'

And I say, ‘Okay.'

– Rafael

Chino knew about most of the big loads of coke coming to Bali, with his men instructed to keep an ear to the ground. If he got news it was suddenly snowing and one of Rafael's guys had smuggled it in, he'd get his right-hand man, Bejo, a tall, skinny Indonesian, to go to Rafael's house, collect him and bring him to M3 to explain.

Bejo is a danger guy, fucking danger guy.

Why?

He was in the jail here, Kerobokan, two or three times. He's from Laskar Bali; now he has the biggest security company here, for banks, and this guy always has guns. He's a scary guy.

And he still works for Laskar?

Yeah.

– Andre

Sometimes I was in my house, doing nothing, and then Bejo comes. ‘Rafael, Chino wants to talk to you.' ‘About what?' ‘I don't know.' I say, ‘Okay, let's go.' Then we go and Chino says, ‘Do you know that some coke has come in the island?' ‘No.' ‘Well, my people know, somebody is selling coke here. Find out who this guy is. I hear it is Brazilian.' Sometimes it was French, or Italians, but Chino's soldiers knew when the shit started selling in the street. He says, ‘Rafael, find this motherfucker, let's fuck him.' I say, ‘We don't need to do anything, they are going to fuck themselves.' It's funny, because sometimes people come, they don't even speak English, they don't have any connections, they just hear it's good to bring coke to Bali, and they bring it. They try to do it themselves. It's hard, you have to have connections to sell 1 kilo. Whoa, if you try to sell coke in the street, gram by gram, it's very dangerous.

They fuck up. Or they cannot sell, and they start using it, getting crazy, and in the end they come to me, ‘Please, Rafael, help me to sell the shit.' I say, ‘Why didn't you tell me before, did you sell to someone else?' Because I worry about getting a problem with Chino.

– Rafael

Usually, Rafael and Chino would work it out amicably, but sometimes Chino's temper blew, revealing his cold-blooded side.

Bejo and three Indonesian gorillas came to my house with guns. Chino ordered them, ‘Go to Rafael's house, ask him what the fuck he's doing, why didn't he sell the shit to me?' But the shit was not mine.

Bejo says, ‘Let's go to Chino to talk to him.'

I say, ‘No problem, I can talk to him anytime, but why are the fucking guys here with guns near my family, my kids?' I got very pissed off.

– Rafael

At M3, Chino was waiting and angrily flipped a table as Rafael walked in. ‘You wanna fuck with me?' he yelled.

‘Man, this shit isn't mine. I don't have anything to hide. If you want to play hard, I can find out who put it here, then fuck him very bad, teach him to not fuck you.'

I find out it is this guy, fucking Dimitrius the Greek, who brings and sells it here. He put my name in the fire. Somebody maybe asks him, ‘Who brings this stuff?' and he says, ‘Rafael'. He knows I am the guy, so why does he try to do this behind my back? He was going to get the same price with me, and I make a commission too.

I come back to Chino and say, ‘This is the guy. What are you going to do?'

‘Let's fuck him.'

I say, ‘Beat him, put him out of the island, let's take action.'

Chino tells me, ‘Okay, take two guys and give him some shit.'

– Rafael

Rafael was friends with the Greek, who used to do frequent Lemon Juice runs for Marco, and had even asked Rafael about doing coke runs. He was smart and hung out with the crew at the club and their other usual haunts. But now he was starting to invest, and keen to be a boss. Rafael had introduced him to many of his Bali contacts, which made his betrayal even more bitter.