Tae Sagi moved towards the pier not directly, but in an arc, using stacks of containers as cover. His footsteps were silent, his movements—fluid and economical. He became a part of the thickening darkness.
Chanrat, hearing the approaching footsteps, turned around, expecting to see the Singaporeans. His eyes widened in horror when a faceless, black figure appeared before him. He tried to shout something, his hand reaching inside his coat, where, as Tae Sagi knew, a small pistol was hidden.
He gave him no chance. A sharp, practiced step forward, a dodge from the clumsy grab, and the gloved sap traced a short arc. A dull, bone-crunching thud echoed in the silence. Chanrat froze for an instant, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto the concrete like a felled tree, not even having time to understand who had struck him.
Tae Sagi bent down, quickly and professionally searched him, took the pistol, pulled out his wallet and phone. All of it flew into the dark water beyond the pier. He took off his balaclava and dragged the unconscious body into the shadow between the containers, out of sight from the access roads. The job took less than a minute.
Right on schedule, two dark SUVs drove onto the platform. The Singaporeans. They got out—five men in expensive, yet practical suits. Their eyes, cold and appraising, scanned the empty area. The leader, a man with greying temples and a face carved from granite, frowned.
At that moment, Tae Sagi stepped out from the shadow of the containers. But now without the balaclava. His face was open, adorned with a slight, businesslike smile. In his hands, he held not a weapon, but a small tablet.
"Gentlemen," he said in English with an almost imperceptible accent, "welcome. My apologies for this... minimalist setting. I hope the seagulls' cries aren't too distracting for appreciating the numbers."
The Singaporeans grew alert, their hands moving subtly towards their weapons. Their leader took a step forward.
"We expected to see Mr. Chanrat. Who are you?"
"A question of time and place," Tae Sagi parried softly, making a light gesture with his hand as if swatting away a bothersome insect. "Mr. Chanrat, unfortunately, realized at the last moment that his wardrobe did not meet the level of this meeting. He went on an emergency tie-shopping trip. And the don... the don believes some negotiations are better conducted with more... flexible partners. My name is Tae Sagi. I am that very flexibility."
"Where is Chanrat?" he repeated, his voice growing quieter and more dangerous. His men spread out, adopting defensive stances.
"Oh," Tae Sagi placed a hand on his chest with feigned dismay. "Directness. I appreciate it. You see, Mr. Chanrat turned out to be an old, cracked teacup. Beautiful on the outside, but one you can't drink from without spilling. The don grew tired of walking around in a wet shirt. So he entrusted me with... setting a new table service. Much more reliable. Without chips."
"You claim to represent the interests of the don and the Tae family instead of the Thai side?" Icy disbelief rang in the leader's voice. "Do you have confirmation?"
"Confirmation?" Tae Sagi smirked, and sparks of excitement flashed in his eyes. "I have something better. I have a solution to your problem. Chanrat and his people are a leaky boat. You load cargo into it, and it sails away... somewhere not right. Holes. Shortages. Unnecessary questions from the local authorities. Annoying, isn't it?"
He paused, watching as his words hit their mark. The Singaporeans exchanged glances.
"We're listening."
"Excellent." Tae Sagi activated the tablet. "You see, over the last few months, enjoying the state's hospitality, I've had ample time for... analysis. And I've concluded the problem isn't the route, not the merchandise. The problem is the human factor. Namely—the instability of on-the-ground management. The Tae family proposes to replace this factor. With ourselves."
He turned the tablet, showcasing impeccable schematics.
"All of Chanrat's logistical chains are already under our control. His people... well, the smartest ones now work for us. The rest will go chasing after their boss in search of that very tie. We take on all his obligations to you. And, as a sign of our sincere interest in a long and healthy partnership, we offer a twenty percent discount on the first tranche. Consider it payment for our future... impeccable service."
The Singaporeans studied the schematics carefully. Their faces remained impassive, but the tension in their shoulders eased slightly.
"Twenty percent is a significant amount. What guarantees that you won't disappear, like Chanrat, after the first tranche?"
"Oh," Tae Sagi clicked his tongue. "We only disappear when we are very politely asked to do so. And to prevent that from happening, we have something better than verbal agreements. We have a reputation. The don doesn't like to be let down. And I..." he leaned in a little closer, and his smile became thinner, sharper, "...I simply despise mess. Chanrat is a mess. I cleaned it up. Your shipment being at risk is a mess. I'm eliminating it. See the pattern? With me, everything will be clean, predictable, and profitable. And the discount... think of it as the cost of cleaning. I've already done the preliminary work, at my own expense."
One of the younger Singaporeans couldn't hold back:
"And if your 'don' changes his mind? Or you decide to raise the stakes?"
Tae Sagi turned to him, and his gaze became momentarily, almost paternally, condescending.
"My dear, in our business, people only 'change their minds' once. And after that, they don't think at all anymore. We offer stability. And stability is expensive. We're simply giving you an initial discount so you can experience the quality. Like a test drive. After it, I assure you, you won't want to go back to... used Thai SUVs with questionable history."
Their leader slowly nodded. He closed the tablet cover he had been studying and returned it to Tae Sagi.
"Your schematics look... adequate. Twenty percent is a convincing argument. But we don't make deals at this level in a port, with a man who appears from the shadows."
"Of course," Tae Sagi gave an elegant half-bow. "This was merely a presentation. To pique your interest. All official arrangements will be discussed with my uncle, Tae Hwan, the head of the family. Tomorrow, in a more suitable location. Everything will be by the book: contracts, guarantees, tea, cookies... unless, of course, you prefer coffee."
For the first time, something remotely resembling a smile flickered across the leader's face.
"Coffee. No sugar."
"I'll remember that," Tae Sagi nodded, and a light, almost friendly irony returned to his tone. "I'll tell the cook. Or the barista. Depending on the setting."
The negotiations were over. The Singaporeans drove off, and in their eyes there was no longer suspicion, but only businesslike respect and cold anticipation of a new, more reliable and profitable scheme. Tae Sagi watched them leave, standing in the piercing wind. The smile vanished from his face, dissolving into the sea dampness. He took out his phone, sent a pre-prepared message to his uncle: "Soil prepared. Expect guests. S."
Then he returned to the containers. Chanrat was already beginning to moan, coming to his senses. Tae Sagi looked down at him.
"Looking for a tie?" he said quietly in Korean, though Chanrat, of course, didn't hear. "Found something different than you wanted."
Then he turned and walked to his car. His work here was done. He had expanded the family's influence, eliminated a weak link, replaced it with himself, and left both the don and Chanrat with nothing. The don lost both the Thais and part of the deal. Chanrat lost everything: status, respect, future. He would survive, but he'd be a living corpse, a warning to others.
The white Lexus silently rolled out from the shadow of the warehouse and dissolved into the night traffic heading into the city. It was quiet inside the car. Tae Sagi took off his gloves, threw them into a passing dumpster. In the mirror's reflection, his face showed neither fatigue nor triumph. There was only the emptiness of a man who had simply completed another task.