May 17th, 2021
Karl didn’t want anything like money, any of my merchandise, or even the nasty sexual favors he told that some border patrol agents had solicited in the past. That might have been preferable really, but instead he wanted me to keep doing what I was doing, and if it was possible to make mention of him to the bosses of the ring if I ever saw them. Well of course I never did, I might have been a top earner but I was nothing else to those that could replace me with a crackhead off the street if they had to. But what could I say? Karl could have ratted me out and busted me the moment he saw what I was doing, despite the fact that he was part of the smuggling ring.
But he didn’t, because I said that of course I would put in the good word. I must have made nearly a dozen more runs in the months to follow, and while a few guards were seen to question my back and forth behavior and more than one had asked if I was bringing anything into Canada (I never carried anything more than a cheap pocketbook and a bottle of water with me on each trip) it never got that far. Karl would always be there and he would bail me out by either vouching for me or taking over by stating that the guard was needed elsewhere.
And each time I told him that yes, I’d been talking to the bosses and telling them just how good he was doing. But he only accepted that for a short time, and then he wanted to make his own impression.
He made it alright, all over the front page of the local news in Victoria.
So yes, I lied to him, I told him good things, I said that the bosses were taking note of him and were thinking about giving him more responsibility. It was horrible and it was wrong but I didn’t mean for it to get him killed. I still ask myself how it could have happened and the only answer I come back to is that I put the idea in his head that it would be okay to contact those people that do NOT like to be contacted and ask to speak to the bosses.
He never said my name apparently, he never gave out the source that had steered him in the direction that resulted in an “accidental fall from a ten-story high rise in Seattle”, since anyone involved would be next on the chopping block, and that would be me. I didn’t say a damned thing when he was killed, nor did I allow it to keep me down as I continued to smuggle phones into Canada, finding new and inventive ways to do it every time after Karl died.
I’ve never been proud of what I did, but it’s managed to bring me here, to this point and time.
(to be continued)