/// *OPS: The Cannibal Restaurant
*OPS is a series of posts possibly about my experiences as a (former) covert operative. Edited, altered, fictional and or true accounts of events.
The following sequences of words may or may not describe actual events. Places, names, timelines and other details may have been modified, omitted or added in part or as a whole if inspired by events and actions that may or may not have actually occurred and people that may or may not have existed. Verifiably unverifiable but with the core narrative intact.-NOTICE #637BAU
[ OBJECTIVE ] Confirm the existence and location of a restaurant known as “Shufugi”, purported to mass produce flawless counterfeit British passports.
0001 Hong Kong is a strange place. Not exactly a country but she thinks she is. So much rich, so much poor, so much human density. Jet lagged to hell, unshaven for a month and my last shower a week ago, I’m prepped for my first assignment.
0002 Just on time. The subject has arrived just where they predicted. This guy’s rocking a thousand dollar suit with some horrendous cowboy boots that probably costs twice that. If he was anyone else, he’d be robbed within minutes in this part of town dressed like that. It’s clear he’s respected or at least feared.
0003 His limo drives off but he remains on the street corner. A taxi rolls up and he gets in, but I notice he didn’t flag the cabbie or even look like he needed a ride. I take a false chug of my watered down bottle of vodka as I secretly take a photo then I sit back down on the bench of this long abandoned bus stop.
0004 Not to raise suspicion I’ll stay on this bench a little longer, after all I’m supposed to be a drunk homeless. Minutes later I see that same taxi stop at that same corner and the same man gets out, except he’s now wearing a purple tracksuit. He must of changed in the taxi while it did a loop.
0005 Now he’s on foot, excellent. I follow… With that taxi ruse I expected him to be more aware of his surroundings, but no, he doesn’t seem to be trained. Or this route he takes has become so routine that he doesn’t care, makes my job easier. Tracking…
0006 Interesting, we just made 4 right turns but we’re not where we started from. This must be a converted alleyway made to look like an ordinary street. He makes a 5th right turn…
0007 I know I’m good but I think this is pure luck as I believe I’ve just found the restaurant. At the end of the tightly enclosed alley is obviously where the subject is approaching. It doesn’t say “Shufugi” nor is there any other sign on the restaurant but there is an armed guard the size of a 3 of me who doesn’t look like a guard who’s armed – husky but jacked with muscles with a war torn face wearing a cheap but tailored suit. Multiple top-of-the-line security cameras lined around the alley and aged reinforced gates on the restaurant facade. I need to get closer, so I’ll take a chug of my vodka.
0008 I passively stumble closer to the restaurant as a harmless drunk who’s lost for direction. My Cantonese is excellent but my dialect is shoddy, so I’ll just slur heavily if spoken to with my stench of alcohol a perfect excuse. Gulp, gulp, sip…
0009 Steps from the front door, I can see the guard’s solid stance and posture is a result of ingrained military discipline with an unflinching stare honed with his current profession as an overqualified security guard – no, gangster, definitely a gangster.
0011 Sometimes to be inconspicuous, you must be obvious and direct. So instead of slyly glimpsing the interior of the restaurant, I stand right in front of the glass seeing everything, sloppily drinking out of my vodka bottle. It seems like any other ma and pa Hong Kong eatery, but everyone’s dressed like they’re in a 5 star French restaurant. I need to get in there.
0012 Now back at my safe house, I change to standard street clothes, eat a cup-of-noodles, send a data packet, grab a TAG kit then I’m out.
0013 I always wanted a Prada suit, so I get one for my next move. Also a shirt, shoes and a wallet. Perks of the job, too bad I can’t keep them though. Not far, I check into The Ritz-Carlton hotel. I take a long overdue shower, shave, then suit up. Now I wait for a data packet.
0014 I’m instructed to embed certain devices inside the restaurant. Sounds easy. I call the hotel concierge to request a non-stretch limo. Then a call to the provided high-class escort service to request a native Hong Kong girl dressed conservatively.
0015 We arrive at the restaurant and just my luck, it’s the same guard. He opens the limo door on my side, my heart races thinking he may notice me. He doesn’t. I tip him 200 HKD as he hides a grateful smile like a pro. He leads us into the restaurant. We’re in.
0016 The cleverly hidden metal detector doesn’t go off, not with how I’m equipped. Place is packed, we get a seat by the massive but empty fish tank.
0017 I agreed on 3800 HKD for 2 hours of the escort’s service to the agency and I offered her an additional 3000 to stick the first device in the woman’s bathroom. Done. I do the same in the men’s.
0018 Once we’re seated again, we receive our menus and moments later I hear the escort whisper to herself in trembling fear, “Shu…fu…gi”. She puts the menu down, puts her phone in her purse and tells me she needs to leave. Before I can ask why, she says some words I’m unfamiliar with in Cantonese. She panics and tells me again, I shake my head. She gets her phone out and translates the word to English and shows me; “CANNIBAL RESTAURANT!!! MAFIA!!!”.
0019 I tell her you can’t just leave like that. So I tell her to get up, slap me across the face, call me a cheating bastard then storm out the restaurant. She does.
0020 After she’s out the door, I stand up, put a cigarette in my mouth, light it, inhale, exhale, adjust my necktie then casually leave the restaurant.