Gemscentric

Written by Julian Robov

Nine

When he landed at Changi International Airport on Sunday evening, Julian was waiting for him. They took a taxi to Shangri-la. Every time he came to Singapore, he became aware of his addictive habit—SPITTING.

Julian updated Rudy of the changes that had occurred since his last visit. The roads, streams, canals, gardens, footpath, and shopping malls looked clean and ultramodern, as the taxi sped through the traffic. And, of course, the economy.
They arrived at Shangri-la in a few minutes. Julian had Rudy’s favorite room reserved for him. He waited at the lobby for Rudy to return.
“What a day?” Rudy said in a low voice, as he took his seat opposite to Julian. They had a lot to share. The incandescent lighting made the environment perfect for a quiet conversation.

Julian knew all the questions Rudy wanted to ask about his money and gems. Before Rudy could utter, Julian reached his leather briefcase and extracted a box of Ginseng, a ritual he had not forgotten since they became friends.

Rudy acknowledged the healthy gift by a high five. Julian urged him to open the Ginseng box. He had all the numbers scribbled in a piece of paper—US$47,868,754.10
He closed his eyes in praise of God the Almighty.
“Regarding the rest, you can come to my office,” Julian added.
Rudy knew what Julian meant. His mind warmed up fast. He had more than enough to get back on his feet. In fact, if he wanted to retire and lead a normal life, he had it all. But he hated that quiet lifestyle. Action, adventure, and risk taking were in his blood. This time he reminded himself to be more careful and conservative. He was getting older and new players were coming with lavish cash and less experience—to compete with old timers in the same market. But the pool was too small for that many people to swim.
“Thank you, Julian,” Rudy said, appreciating his service.
“So, what are your plans? I heard a lot about you through our contacts—negative. But I always knew you would surface somewhere in the jungle to surprise your competitors. Since Pol Pot is dead, business should be a bit easier—I assume. Iang Sery should be doing a brisk business in Pailin—I suppose,” Julian reminded.
“Right. Iang Sery is a good friend of mine. He is going to be my reliable source once I have finished putting my house in order. My old friends are still with me. But this time it won’t be the same relationship. Friendship and business, I want to keep separate. They don’t know how I am going to organize my new house. But one thing they do know is this time I’m serious,” Rudy answered.
“What do you want me to do?” Julian asked.
“I want you to transfer two million to my account in Bangkok Bank. Now the Board of Trade and Investments are giving special privileges for investors who put money into the country. I hope the laws don’t change after the money is in my account. I’ve other ideas of how to take advantage of this situation,” Rudy explained.
“No problem. It’s done,” Julian said.
After working out the numbers and other cash transfers, they moved their discussion to the Chinese restaurant.