The Vancouver introduction was uneventful. No names were used. All Bartholomew told his contacts was that Yousseff was his successor, that he could be trusted, and that they would be doing business with him from now on. The apparent leader of the Canadians was a young man, about Yousseff’s age, with a long ponytail and hard, pale blue eyes. He had three men with him, all openly displaying firearms. There were no handshakes. No pleasant conversation. Two hundred kilos of heroin was traded for 20 suitcases of American currency. The whole exchange lasted less than two minutes. Bartholomew and Yousseff were back in the runabout the instant the exchange was made, headed straight for the ship. The captain told Yousseff that this was the most dangerous part of any transfer. It was not safe to trust the purchasers — you could never tell if they were going to pull their guns on you at the last second. And the harbor police were always around, hiding in the shadows. He pointed out a number of the taller Vancouver buildings and told Yousseff that police with powerful binoculars were almost always scanning the harbor for suspicious activity from any available building. For these reasons, the meetings were always a gamble.
Yousseff nodded. He had been watching the whole process intently for two years. And he had discovered another quality that had made Bartholomew so successful. Luck. Sheer, blind luck. He could think of dozens of improvements, especially with the engineering now available to him through Kumar’s thriving company. Improvements to make the transfers more efficient, faster, and safer. Improvements that would make every trip more profitable.
To conclude that night, Yousseff had been given a telephone number — in four weeks he was to call the number and be given the particulars of the next drop, which would take place eight weeks later.
When he had docked the ship upon his return, Yousseff found that KDEC did not have enough time to replace the engines, as he had hoped; they had too much work to do as it was. New engines would have to wait until the next trip home. But Kumar was able to make some of his usual modifications. His men also put a false bottom in the runabout, to create an invisible storage area, where Yousseff stashed 400 kilograms of heroin.
Eight weeks later Yousseff returned to Vancouver for his first deal. He had hired a whole new crew of his own men for the ship. They were virtually all from the Pashtun mountain villages. They all knew Yousseff, and trusted him. Most importantly, they were all absolutely dedicated to him. None of them knew a great deal about the sea, but Yousseff knew from experience that it was easier to teach a loyal crew any trade than it was to teach an experienced crew loyalty. And Vince had no difficulty with training new sailors.
The meeting was at an abandoned dock near Port Moody, at the east end of Burrard Inlet. Yousseff himself took part, with three of his crew as his personal bodyguards. They all packed AK-47’s, and were very comfortable showing them off, so they painted an intimidating picture. But none of them had ever experienced a deal of this nature. Yousseff was decidedly nervous, and his men were downright terrified. Yousseff was also dealing with a personal conflict. He had never considered himself a criminal; he thought of himself as a businessman, and one who kept hundreds of farmers and workers in Afghanistan and Pakistan happily employed. He did not like dealing with the criminal element, and the Vancouver drug dealers were clearly practicing members. The same youthful man with the hard blue eyes appeared, at the appointed place and hour. Yousseff, who had scouted the area out a few hours earlier, was ready and waiting.
“What’ve ya got?” asked Hard-eyes.
“Four hundred kilos,” Yousseff answered.
“Where?”
“In the runabout.”
“Get it.”
“Show me the money,” Yousseff answered.
Hard-eyes motioned to the old pickup truck parked about 50 feet away. Yousseff’s eyes did not leave the young Canadian.
“Show it to me,” Yousseff repeated.
“You get the horse. I’ll get the money. Then we trade,” said Hard-eyes.
Yousseff motioned to Vince, who was in the runabout. Vince activated a hidden switch, and a hidden panel silently slid back, revealing a small scissors lift. The scissors lift rose up from the hidden chamber, bringing the drugs into view over the edge of the small boat. The heroin had been placed on a small wheeled pallet, so that the sailor could simply push it forward onto the dock. It was a simplified system that made Yousseff cringe, but was the best that Kumar had been able to do in the two weeks between trips. As the drugs were rolled out, 20 Samsonite suitcases appeared from the truck. Yousseff had a lot of experience with packing money into medium-sized Samsonite suitcases and estimated that the 20 suitcases contained approximately $10 million. He also remembered that Bartholomew had been given 20 suitcases as payment for 200 kilos of heroin. The Canadian was trying to cut the price in half.
“No,” said Yousseff. “Four hundred kilos. Forty cases. That’s the deal. No bullshit.”
Hard-eyes look directly at Yousseff. “You’re in no position to bargain, towel-head.”
“I’m not bargaining,” Yousseff answered. “You know the price. No discounts here.”
The Canadian motioned to one of his men. Shots were fired, and two of Yousseff’s men fell to the dock, dead. Yousseff now stood alone with Vince, who stood in the runabout.
Yousseff had grown up when the Soviets invaded his land. He was familiar with the tribal wars in the Frontier Provinces. He had personally done battle with his rivals in Pakistan and Afghanistan on several occasions. He was no stranger to death. But those had been situations where there was no alternative; it was kill or be killed. This was nothing like that. The drug-runner’s action was senseless. The deaths of his men had been completely unnecessary, and it enraged him. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands and bit his tongue, telling himself not to show the anger boiling beneath the surface. But his voice dropped, and his stare became dangerously intense.
“You have made your point, sir.” He calmly walked over to the cases, which he and Vince then loaded into the runabout. Yousseff picked up one of their fallen comrades.
“Vince, help me carry these two. We will not leave them here on the docks. We’ll bury them at sea.” Yousseff’s voice was soft and even.
Vince was terrified, but followed Yousseff’s lead. He stepped out of the runabout and half carried, half dragged the second dead crewman back into the small boat.
“Wait,” said Hard-eyes. “Here are the numbers for the next shipment.” He walked to the boat and gave Yousseff a sheet of paper. Yousseff took it without a word, turned to the wheel, and left. He knew that the man would not harm him; he would not want to jeopardize his supply line. The Canadian had a good deal going. Yousseff also realized, though, that he needed to make a stand, to start off this new business relationship.