Ratliff - The Mastermind

2012The puzzle

MONROVIA, LIBERIA

September 26, 2012

On a gray afternoon, three men enter a drab hotel room for a business meeting, months in the making. Two are white: a portly South African and his muscled European deputy. The other, with dark hair and a paunch of his own, is LatinoColombian, or so he says. The hotel is in the Liberian capital, abutting the Atlantic Ocean on the coast of West Africa, but it could be any number of places in the world. The mens business is drugs and weapons, and drugs and weapons are everywhere. They shake hands, nod heads, and begin speaking in the elliptical but familiar way of people who share the vernacular of a trade. They are cautious, but not cautious enough. A video exists to prove it.

I can see why you picked this place, says the South African, settling his substantial bulk into a maroon leather couch pressed against the wall. Because its chaotic. It should be easy to move in and out, from what Ive seen. His name is Paul, and to a trained ear his cadence carries a tinge of not just South Africa but his childhood home, Zimbabwe, where he lived until his teens. His large white head is shaved close, and what hair remains has gone gray as he approaches forty. He has the look of a beach vacationer cleaned up for a dinner out, in an oversize blue polo shirt and a pair of khaki cargo shorts. His clothes seem out of keeping with both the scope of his international influence and the deal he is about to complete, with a man he believes to be the head of a South American drug cartel.

Very easy, replies the Colombian, whom Paul refers to only as Pepe. In the video recording of the meeting, Pepe sits down just offscreen, on a matching couch. His disembodied voice speaks in flawless, if heavily accented, English.

Very few people, not too many eyes. It looks like the right place.

Trust mewhats your name again?

Paul.

Paul, trust me, its the right place. Ive been here already for quite a bit of time. And always, me and my organization, we pick places like this. First of all, for corruption. You can buy anything you want here. Anything. You just tell me what you need.

Yeah, its safe here, Paul says. If theres a problem here, you can fix it. I understand this type of place.

Everything is easy here. Just hand to hand, boom boom boom, you can see, Pepe says, laughing. Well, thanks to your guy here, now we are meeting. He gestures at the third man in the room, the European employee of Pauls who goes by the name Jack. It was Jack who made the initial connection between Paul and Pepe.

The deal Jack brokered was complex enough that, when I meet him years later, I need him to walk me through it several times. The Colombians, who deal primarily in the cocaine produced in their own country, are looking to expand into methamphetamine, which they want to manufacture in Liberia and distribute to the United States and Europe. Paul, a computer programmer who heads his own kind of cartel based in the Philippines, will provide the materials to build the Colombians meth labs: precursor chemicals, formulas for cooking them into meth, and a clean room in which to synthesize it all. While the labs are being built, Paul has agreed to also sell Pepe his own stash of meth, in exchange for an equivalent amount of cocaine at market rates.

After months of back-and-forth, Jack has urged Paul to travel to Liberia and meet his new associate boss to boss to finalize the deal.