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CH348 | GSI
🕑 Added 2025-05-06 13:41:01 +0000 UTCOutskirts of Los Angeles, USA.
Under the blazing sun typical of the dry desert climate, a red, old-model Chevrolet Camaro cruised down a quiet road in the middle of the day.
Edmund Cho, dressed in a white T-shirt with a piercing in one eyebrow, pressed his hand to his nose and inhaled a line of cocaine.
The drug hit instantly, sharpening every nerve in his body.
Rubbing his nose with his other hand, Edmund turned his head toward the Hispanic man at the wheel and said,
“This stuff is incredible.”
The man, with a joint dangling from his lips, grinned, revealing his yellowed teeth.
“Right? This batch just came in from Mexico — it’s no joke.”
Edmund could feel his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might explode, dopamine surging through his veins.
High and giddy, Edmund asked impatiently,
“How much farther till we get to the girls?”
“Not far now. Just a little more.”
“Step on it. I’m in a hurry.”
The man chuckled and then, as if suddenly remembering something, said,
“By the way, I heard you caused some big trouble back in Korea. You alright?”
Leaning back in the passenger seat, Edmund shrugged.
“If I wasn’t, you think I’d be here with you right now?”
“Yeah, fair point.”
Snorting, Edmund gave a thin, crooked smile.
“Korean cops can’t touch me.”
The driver glanced sideways at him.
“Damn, you’re confident. So you did it on purpose, huh?”
“Of course! You think I’m stupid?”
Suddenly irritated, Edmund shouted,
“Damn it. Some random punks got in the way and ruined everything. I couldn’t even enjoy myself — what a mess.”
“Crazy bastard.”
The man shook his head and muttered, exasperated — just as a sudden wail of sirens blared from behind.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, the man saw a police cruiser closing in fast. He scowled and cursed.
“Goddamn it.”
He turned quickly and gestured urgently at Edmund.
“Hide the stuff, now!”
“Shit. This is fucked.”
Grimacing, Edmund hurriedly stuffed the small bag of cocaine into the glove compartment.
“Why the hell are they following us? Did we run a red light or something?”
“I don’t know either!”
The driver tossed his joint out the window, checked to make sure Edmund had hidden the cocaine, then slowly eased off the gas and pulled over to the side of the road.
The patrol car behind them came to a stop, and two officers stepped out, approaching from both sides.
A white officer with a close-cropped haircut walked up and stopped beside the driver’s window. The driver rolled it down and said,
“What seems to be the problem, officer?”
The cop leaned in, eyeing both the driver and Edmund sharply before speaking in a flat tone.
“This vehicle was reported stolen. Is this your car, sir?”
“Of course it is.”
The driver let out a dry chuckle, as if the claim was ridiculous.
“We’ll need to see your licenses. Both of you, step out of the car.”
“This really is my car! Some asshole must’ve reported it as a prank.”
Grumbling loud enough for the officers to hear, the driver pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and handed over his license.
“You too, sir.”
At the officer’s command, Edmund reluctantly pulled out his ID and passed it over.
The officer glanced at their IDs, then frowned. He shot a glance at Edmund sitting in the passenger seat, nodded toward him, and said,
“Both of you, step out of the vehicle.”
“Why? Is there a problem?”
“Just do as you’re told.”
The officer’s curt tone left little room for argument. Sighing in defeat, the driver opened the door and stepped out.
Edmund, stalling and unwilling, sat frozen until the Black officer on the other side tapped on the window to hurry him up.
“Damn it.”
Cursing under his breath, Edmund finally stepped out of the car.
“Turn around and place your hands on the roof.”
“You cops think you can treat innocent citizens like this?”
Edmund shot back, shifting his weight and glaring defiantly.
“Just do it.”
But when the large Black officer moved in, crowding him with his sheer bulk, Edmund’s bravado faltered. He turned around, gritting his teeth.
“Shit.”
The officer patted him down, checking for weapons, then pulled out a pair of handcuffs and snapped them onto Edmund’s wrists.
“What the hell! I didn’t do anything — what is this?!”
As Edmund shouted in protest, the officer shoved down on his shoulder, pinning him in place.
“Edmund Cho, you’re under arrest for attempted murder.”
“What?!”
Edmund’s eyes widened as he jerked his head back, his face twisting into a vicious snarl.
“What the hell are you talking about, you f***ing bastards?!”
A stream of curses poured from Edmund’s mouth, but the Black officer warned him coolly,
“Unless you want an obstruction of justice charge added, I suggest you calm down.”
Meanwhile, the other officer, who had been searching the car, pulled out the cocaine and a Beretta pistol hidden in the glove box. He held them up in front of handcuffed Edmund’s face.
“Well, well. Look at the little surprise we found.”
“Shit…”
Edmund’s face contorted in defeat.
* * *
Late at night.
Seok-won stood in front of the large glass window in his living room, gazing out at the city lights while speaking on the phone with Landon in New York.
[…Both Edmund Cho and Josh McDaniel were arrested by LAPD earlier today. In Edmund’s case, they caught him with cocaine and an illegal firearm during the arrest, so additional charges are likely.]
“He was never going to keep his nose clean just because he went back to the States. Some habits die hard.”
[Exactly.]
“There won’t be any problems with the prosecution and trial in the U.S., right?”
[None at all. Sure, their defense will probably argue that the charges should be dismissed based on territorial jurisdiction, but under the SOFA agreement, jurisdiction over those two—since they’re dependents of U.S. military personnel—belongs to the American courts.]
“If the federal court in L.A. ruled it lacked jurisdiction, that would basically invalidate the SOFA agreement itself.”
[Precisely. That’s the point we hammered home when we lobbied Washington and the Pentagon through our contacts in civil groups.]
Seok-won nodded slightly.
“Landon, you’re a lawyer, so you probably have a rough idea. What kind of sentence are we looking at?”
[They prepared weapons in advance with the intent to kill—so attempted murder applies. Even as minors, they’re looking at a minimum of 10 years in prison. And as for Edmund, he’s got priors—he already served 16 months in a California juvenile facility last year. Now, caught again with cocaine and an illegal firearm, he’s looking at an enhanced sentence. Conservatively, he’ll be rotting in prison for at least 20 years.]
The punishment, while still not enough to match the pain suffered by the victim, was far heavier than anything that would have been handed down in a Korean court.
“Once they’re convicted in the criminal trial, we’ll immediately proceed with the civil suit.”
[Understood.]
Adjusting the phone in his hand, Seok-won smoothly shifted the topic.
“That takes care of that issue. You probably heard Malaysian Prime Minister Syed’s statement today—saying he’s prepared to impose strict controls or even a full ban on forex trading to counter speculators.”
[I knew he was furious over the ringgit’s collapse, but I never thought he’d go so far as to restrict foreign exchange transactions solely to trade payments. That’s an extreme move.]
“Worked out for us though—the dollar surged, and we profited.”
[That’s true.]
Landon let out a low chuckle.
[Watching the ringgit plunge to 5.1 per dollar in an instant, I bet George Soros and Quantum Fund, who closed out their positions early, are kicking themselves right now.]
Seok-won smirked at that.
“They’re being called speculators and criminals by Prime Minister Syed, taking all the heat—and now they’ve missed out on the real profits. I’d be bitter too.”
[In hindsight, this whole episode proved that you boss—by holding firm when Quantum bailed—outplayed George Soros.]
Seok-won didn’t answer right away but smiled faintly as he asked,
“What’s our average ringgit position now?”
“Over $6.2 billion, placed at an average rate of 2.9 ringgit per dollar,” Landon reported.
“So that gives us roughly a 76% return,” Seok-won said.
“That’s correct,” Landon replied.
A soft whistle came through the phone.
“Even at a rough estimate, that’s $4.6 billion in profit. Looks like you’ve hit the jackpot again.”
Hearing the awe in Landon’s voice, Seok-won chuckled.
“I think we’ve made more than enough. Let’s start unwinding our positions.”
“Yes, understood.”
Given the massive profits already secured, Landon had no reason to object.
“Oh, and make sure we don’t dump everything all at once,” Seok-won added. “If we pull out too quickly, the ringgit could rebound. Unwind slowly and carefully.”
[I’ll handle it that way. What about our positions in Thai baht and Indonesian rupiah?]
“Hold onto those. We’re nowhere near the bottom yet.”
[Got it.]
Seok-won slipped one hand into his pocket and calmly issued his next set of instructions.
“Take the profits from this trade and short Dow futures contracts for December delivery.”
“You want to short the New York market?” Landon asked, surprised
“That’s right.”
[With the dot-com boom going strong, shorting U.S. stocks now sounds risky.]
Landon’s voice was tinged with alarm.
“I know the U.S. market’s hot,” Seok-won said evenly. “And I know the dot-com boom is part of a bigger, unstoppable trend.”
[Then shouldn’t we avoid shorting even more?]
Landon sounded like he couldn’t make sense of it.
Jumping off a runaway horse would have been crazy enough—but betting against it? It felt suicidal.
“No matter how strong the racehorse, it can’t sprint forever without rest.”
“…”
“And think about it: unlike before, the global economy is now tightly interconnected. No matter how strong the U.S. looks, it can't stay unaffected by the chaos unfolding in Asia.”
“…!”
“The Asian operations of American companies will suffer—earnings will slow, they’ll take a hit from the strong dollar, and exports will shrink.”
Realization dawned on Landon, and he let out a low exclamation.
[You’re right. They might think it’s someone else’s fire for now, but eventually the sparks will land on them too.]
“Exactly. Stock prices have soared because of the dot-com frenzy. But when investors realize the risks, they’ll start cashing out to lock in their gains.”
[And once the selling starts from one side, it’ll trigger a chain reaction.]
Seok-won smiled slightly, as if pleased with Landon’s quick understanding.
“Right. The dot-com boom won’t die overnight, but because prices have run so high, the correction will be sharp and steep.”
[I see. So we short the Dow futures, and once it crashes, we exit quickly before the rebound.]
Seok-won’s smile widened in satisfaction at Landon’s sharp grasp of his strategy.
“Exactly.”
[What about the principal?]
“Hold onto it. Once Quantum Fund starts attacking Hong Kong, we’ll need that cash ready to bet on it.”
[Understood.]
After giving a few more detailed instructions, Seok-won ended the call.
He stood quietly for a moment, gazing at the beautiful city lights beyond the glass, and murmured to himself,
“My father entrusted me with that money. I’ll need to return it to him once the IMF crisis hits in a few months. Can’t have it tied up for long... I’ll need to park it somewhere that delivers quick returns—shorting Dow futures should do nicely.”
