Chapter 5: Putting My Skill Set To Good Use
The next Monday, I began working on coding an encrypted messaging system that Black could use to communicate with his entire network securely. There were really 2 issues at hand: 1) finding a secure way to communicate within our organization, and 2) communicating securely with customers. Because mobile apps were not commonplace, we couldn't exactly just ask our customers to install an app from Google Play or Apple's Appstore. Nonetheless, we were able to come up with reasonable ways to protect both the customers and ourselves. Customers were told to either text one of our runners with nothing more than “need to meet” and a time would be texted back – usually something like “now” or “30 mins” at which point the customer would meet the runner outside the apartment we were using as our trap house. The second alternative was primarily used by customers that were routine enough to come everyday or every couple of days. Since we had a basement apartment with its own entrance, foot traffic wasn't really a problem unless we were to get into a situation with customers lining up out the door (fortunately, that never happened). Those customers that we considered our “regulars” were told they could simply show up at any time we were there (it was generally 9am – 9pm) and they'd be helped.
Communications between everybody in Black's organization was a different matter. The safest way would have simply been to limit phone calls/text messages to phrases like “need to meet” and discuss everything else in person, but that was terribly inefficient, and if there was anything that could be done to save a substantial amount of time, Black was all for it. So, I got to work and started coding a system which allowed for peer-to-peer encrypted messaging, which sent only encrypted data across the network, making intercepting that data and decrypting it into plain-text virtually impossible. Well, at the time I believed it was virtually impossible. Today, practically all the algorithms used by PGP – considered the strongest consumer level encryption available - have had backdoors intentionally inserted in them to allow the NSA the ability to decrypt such communications (including the RSA algorithm, which was what we used). The technical details are not that important – but for any readers that know a thing or two about information security, I'll briefly describe the software system's architecture that I designed. Each person was assigned a public and private key – the public keys were used to encrypt messages sent to that particular person, which could only be decrypted into plain-text using that person's private key. This creates a system wherein only the public keys needed to be shared – all private keys were specific to each person and stored only on that person's BlackBerry device. The important point here is that private keys were never transmitted across the network, making it impossible (or so I thought at the time) to decrypt messages even if they were intercepted. The keys we used were 2048 bits long which is considered very strong encryption. For comparison purposes, the SSL encryption keys used by your web browser every time you make a credit card transaction are 128 bits, and always have been (since the advent of SSL). I ended up also using SSL to transmit messages, meaning there were actually 2 layers of encryption being used. Despite the multiple layers of encryption, I would not consider that secure today, but at the time it was certainly the best option and I was confident in the system's security.
Soon we had an app of our own, BlackBerries with the software preinstalled were distributed to everyone, and that became our primary means of communication. The only piece of the operation not secured was communication between Black and his supplier(s), who I didn't end up meeting until much later. Cyber-security has always sort of been “my thing”. When I was in high school, during the first dot-com boom, I started one of the first VPN and anonymous internet surfing companies. Nowadays there are countless such companies, but at the time, my company was one of a very small number, and to be perfectly honest, my software was both more secure and easier to use than any of the alternatives – this resulted in my company essentially dominating the market, despite the fact that I was only 15 at the time. Very quickly, I had 5-6 orders per day rolling in, at about $50 each, which I thought was pretty good for being in high school and running the company entirely on my own out of my parents' basement. Within 6 months, I received a buyout offer and ended up selling the company to a publicly traded firm from Vancouver. While it's fairly common today to see teenagers selling tech startups, it was not at all common at the time, and I received a huge amount of media attention for it – ranging from appearances on Good Morning America, CNN, CNBC, MSNBC, The Financial Times, and just about every local news show, among others. I was also booked as a guest on Letterman at one point, but ended up getting bumped that night, and unfortunately they chose not to reschedule with me. Following the sale of the company, I began doing freelance security consulting and custom software development for clients ranging from startups to Fortune 500 companies to government agencies, both foreign and domestic. I had never worked for a drug dealing organization, though. Nevertheless, I was confident in my ability to set the system up in the most secure way possible at the time.
Carrying 2 cellphones was a bit of a burden, but we all figured it was a small price to pay for security. I finished coding our app in just about four weeks, and Black was extremely pleased with the result. As I described above, Black purchased BlackBerries for everyone important in his organization and from then on, that was how we always communicated. That said, I was not doing so well personally. I was spending all day coding or doing other technical tasks at my day job, and then I'd come home, get high, and work on coding the app for Black. It was taking a toll on my physical health and it was beginning to get obvious. So in typical junkie fashion, I started occasionally doing coke during the day to act as a pick-me-up. I've never particularly liked uppers of any kind, but I did find that I absolutely loved the combination of coke and heroin together. My “occasional” use of cocaine quickly turned into a daily habit. Fortunately, I had soon completed Black's app, and went back to working my shifts at the trap house. There is absolutely no way I'd feel safe with an app of this sort today, given various releases from Wikileaks and similar sites that prove US intelligence agencies have the capability to access any data on a mobile device, at any time; for its time, however, the app provided state of the art security. Beyond that, at this point, I know for absolutely certain (use your imagination how) that the NSA has pressured every major software manufacturer that deals with privacy or security into backdooring their systems, so they can be accessed at any time.
When I resumed my shifts working at our trap house, I could tell that Andy was somewhat bitter towards me since I had been asked to code the app and was essentially being treated like Black's protege. I didn't want him to feel that way, but it also wasn't my fault that I had the appropriate skill set to do that. Things had gotten much busier at our trap house by the time I returned. Andy had also been snorting a lot more heroin, probably due to the fact that I wasn't around to keep him in check, and while Jeff was there, he had a larger heroin habit than either of us. Jeff had also started using needles, but attempted to cover it up as much as possible. He did not want Black finding out that he was shooting up, and thus was usually using veins on his feet rather than the typically used arm/hand veins. Our runners certainly weren't going to tell anybody – they did not care at all as long as they got paid, and we had kept things as compartmentalized as possible anyhow – the closest they ever came to meeting Black was hearing extremely brief phone conversations between one of us and Black every once in a while. Because of our encrypted messaging app, we rarely had the need to speak over the phone anyhow. Over time, our business was growing, and our weekly pickups quickly increased, first to $10k, then $15k. Despite that, we weren't moving nearly as much heroin as Black would have liked. We were also constantly being told that the supply chain for OC80s was being interrupted and they were getting harder and harder to acquire.
When I started doing OC80s, I had never really done hard drugs before. Sure, I had snorted a line or two of coke while drunk at a party in college, but I really didn't feel much nor did I care for it. Because I'm extremely sensitive to stimulants of any kind, I don't even drink coffee or any caffeinated beverages. I had no interest in experimenting with any other sort of uppers. Before that, I was strictly a weed man, with occasional indulgences in Xanax. I had smoked opium a couple of times in high school, but it was so difficult to find that I never pursued it, though I greatly enjoyed the experience. In an earlier chapter I mentioned the various lines I had set for myself, that at the time I intended not to cross. The only three left were snorting dope and coke together, shooting dope, and shooting speedballs. As I indicated earlier, there came a time when there was simply no way I could keep up with all the commitments I had, and both Andy and I started routinely snorting coke and dope together.
While heroin and coke together does feel really good, it's extremely dangerous. I don't think I need to run through the list of celebrities that have fatally overdosed with that combination. While most of those deaths were caused by speedballs (heroin and coke in the same needle), snorting them together is certainly not safe. Snorting heroin on its own (especially when you have an opiate tolerance) is a lot safer than shooting it because in most cases, you'll just nod out and fall asleep before reaching the point of a fatal overdose. When coke is introduced, however, it becomes a whole lot more dangerous. It is effectively two opposite forces pulling on your heart and feeling your heart nearly stop beating as a result is an extremely scary experience that I have unfortunately been through.
It was also around this time that I began to seriously question some of the choices I had made. At one point, we found out that one of our runners was taking an extra bag off the top of each bundle of dope he sold. I really don't know why he did that since we were basically giving them as much free dope as they wanted during their shifts. Personally, I would have just let it go after a firm scolding, but Jeff happened to be around at the time, and he wasn't willing to be nearly as forgiving. He ended up pistol whipping the 21 year old kid, forced his gun into the kid's mouth while he sat there terrified and sobbing, and then pistol whipped him again until he was unconscious. Andy and I sat there watching, both of us also terrified and completely speechless at the scene unfolding before us. Unfortunately, this also scared our other runner enough that he ran off with 5 bundles of dope and a couple eightballs of coke, ditched his burner phone, and we never saw him again. Jeff took it upon himself to “fire” the first runner as well, so we now had an apartment full of drugs, with nobody to sell them for us. Black wasn't exactly mad about this, I would describe his response as more annoyed and irritated. I suspect similar situations had occurred many times before, with Black tacitly approving Jeff's handling of the situation. Nevertheless, we did have to find a couple more runners. Andy and I both suggested a couple of our regular customers that clearly could use some extra money, but Jeff didn't like the idea of hiring them. He felt they weren't trustworthy enough, and he wasn't wrong.
“Lemme talk to Black. I know he got a coupla young'ins we can send your way,” Jeff began, “but it's probably finna take a few days... y'all gon' have to step up and keep moving this shit, we can't shut down right now.”
At the time, I didn't understand what the big deal with shutting down for a few days was. Black had always stressed being careful over everything, but I wasn't about to argue with either Jeff or Black. I later found out there was a lot more heat on Black's organization than we had been told – that was the real reason he wanted a secure mobile app developed, and was against shutting down for even a few days. The only actual arrests that had taken place were by local police, but he knew the DEA was closing in on him, and that it was only a matter of time before he would have to deal with federal charges of some sort. He was clearly trying to stack as much money as possible before the inevitable happened.
So Andy and I came up with a plan. I've always been rather quiet, introverted, and reserved; on the other hand, Andy was very outgoing, social, and good at networking or “shmoozing” with people. It was no problem to continue serving our regulars, but the runners had taken their burner phones with them, which resulted in a huge decrease in our customer base. We knew we had to do something to get business jumping again. It was at this time that I would say Andy became the local “dope man” while I essentially served as a lookout for him. This arrangement worked well for both of us – I wasn't good at approaching potential customers, but Andy's “social butterfly” personality was perfect for it. We thus started hanging out at local, seedy dive bars, scanning the crowd for obvious addicts. It ended up being a whole lot easier than I expected. Once you know what to look for, it's easy to spot a dope fiend. Fellow users know exactly what I mean. More often than not, there will be one or two people at the end of the bar, nursing a drink for slightly longer than normal, constantly looking around nervously, with a body type that looks just a tad too emaciated for their frame. I would point them out to Andy, and he'd watch them like a hawk for about 15 minutes. After a short period of time, they'd almost always unfailingly head to the bathroom, at which point Andy would make his move. He'd follow the potential customer inside, tap them on the shoulder, and give them a knowing smirk that said, “I know what you're about to do in here.” At that point the conversation would go something like this:
“I've got something for you if you want, and I guarantee it's better quality than what you're about to shoot or sniff.”
“What the fuck? You a cop or something?”
“No, relax. I just wanna get you high. Take this, and call the number on the bottom of the bag if you want more.”
At that point, Andy would make his exit so as not to spook the customer too much. Heroin addicts tend to have a particular “ritual” for prepping and consuming their drugs that's usually very personal to them. They like to be alone so they can fully appreciate the rush of euphoria that accompanies that first hit. It allows them to simply kick back and bask in opiated bliss without worrying about the world around them. This is especially true for addicts that are getting high in public bathrooms. This approach worked surprisingly well. Well enough that only once were we wrong about a potential customer, and that dude was going into the bathroom to do bumps of coke, so he was more than happy to take our number anyway. We didn't really need to be selling any more coke though. What we needed were more customers looking to buy heroin. Within a couple of days, we recruited a friend of ours named Kate to do the same thing for women. There aren't nearly as many female dope users (this is why heroin is sometimes referred to as “boy,” while coke is referred to as “girl,” or more commonly “white girl”), but she still managed to bring us a good amount of customers. She wasn't an addict like the two of us, but she did use occasionally, and was more than happy to accept payment in product.
Things really started to take off when we met Jake. Jake was a typical trust fund kid who was very obviously in a rebellious stage, using hard drugs to get away from various family scandals. I couldn't really blame him – his father had recently been caught embezzling a large amount of money from the hedge fund he ran, while his mother was having an affair with both her tennis coach and masseuse. Such a cliché, I know. In hindsight, this was somewhat predatory on my and Andy's part, but both of us could tell from the moment we laid eyes on him that he would end up being a goldmine for us. Jake was a 21 year old white kid with clearly unwashed, dirty dreadlocks, but head to toe designer apparel. As soon as Andy approached him, Jake's eyes lit up. To Andy's surprise, he immediately snorted the bag right in front of Andy and got very chatty.
“Yoooo, this shit is good man! Best I've had in a minute. Goddamn bro, can I get a bundle right now?”
“Give me an hour. Call that number and I got you.”
“Aight, that's wassup. Where you want me to meet you at?”
Andy was a little sketched out at how quickly Jake wanted to buy so he said he'd deliver it to him, rather than telling him to come by our trap house. Jake had been a student at Drexel University in west Philly for the past 2 years, but somehow had “forgotten” to register for classes that semester, so he was basically just getting high while killing time. Like I mentioned earlier, he had a trust fund large enough that money was no object to him. A short while later, Andy and I walked a few blocks to his apartment (that was far nicer than any college student's apartment I've ever seen) and dropped off the bundle he asked for. He was rolling a blunt when we arrived and invited us to stay and smoke, so we figured we might as well.
“So lemme ask you guys something. Why the fuck are you giving this shit out? It's easily the best dope I've seen in a long time and I know all the dealers in west Philly.”
“No, you obviously don't,” I thought to myself, “seeing as how our boss controls almost the entire heroin market around here.”
It turned out that the dealers Jake knew were other college kids who were obviously stepping on their dope. Like I mentioned earlier, Black had been trying to break into the local college market for years, rather unsuccessfully until Andy and I came along.
“You tryin' to find some more custies or something?” Jake asked.
“Yeah. You know some cool people?” Andy replied.
“Shit bro, I know a ton of cool people. If you got more of this quality, I can definitely send 'em your way.”
“Ok, tell you what. For each new customer you bring us, we'll give you a bag on the house.”
From then on, our phones didn't stop ringing. Andy and I were frankly shocked at the number of customers Jake managed to bring us. We ended up giving him a lot of free dope. But, I suppose all good things come to an end. A few weeks later, I had a falling out with Jake, and we had to block his number after that. I'm pretty sure he still managed to get dope from us by asking one of his friends to cop for him, but that was fine by us. While we no longer wanted to deal with Jake, we didn't have any problem selling to his friends, all of whom were very careful about what they said to us after finding out we had blacklisted Jake. There wasn't any serious drama with Jake, but at a certain point, I was no longer willing to deal with him. The reasons for that will be explained in the next chapter.
Up next – Ch. 6: The First Brick of Raw