Outskirts Press, INC.

A Story of the Chinese Mafia

Here for the first time ever, is the tale of Chan Wan San told from his nephew’s point of view. He is the chobun (boss) of the Golden Dragon Society, the most secret of all Chinese Mafia organizations. This story covers Chan Wan San's birth in 1916 all the way through to present day events and his influence upon them. The Golden Dragon Society dominated the worldwide heroin and ecstasy trades and abstractly controls all other criminal organizations and influences worldwide governments and their leaders’ actions. The main checkpoint hub for all heroin shipments from Asia is Hawaii. Chan Wan San's nephew Randal Ting and Randal's best friend Tommy Landis oversee near daily shipments and insure their security. When Chan Wan San believes he had reached the zenith of his power the World Global Control Organization (WGCO) extends to him an invitation to join them. The WGCO is a collection of like minded individuals that controls all world governments and the majority of their leaders, and maneuvers them into the decisions they make. This is done so that a harmonious balance of prosperity, economics, famine, poverty, peace, and war is maintained. The lives of the three main characters is a story of intrigue, treachery, gun battles, Chinese black magic, the women they've loved, and; their eventual downfall. This tale is based on a true story and inspired by real events.

We got a radio call that the 3 Lear jets were 30 minutes out. We had the keys to the tractor vehicles that pulled the baggage and freight carts in the event we needed them to get the product from the planes to the panel trucks. We started to make sure all the carts were properly secure. The rogue group from Stanford’s crew must have seen us moving around and assumed the activity meant the planes were only a few minutes away. Our radios were on a scrambled frequency so they couldn’t eavesdrop on our conversations with the pilots. All of the sudden gunfire started coming from the terminal and hanger and open field between the hanger and taxiway. Johnny’s and Mark’s brains sprayed through the backs of their heads and then they dropped dead like bags of dirt. The rest of us rolled back over the row of luggage carts and then crawled under the row of freight containers scrambling for cover. The situation had become very fluid very quickly. Tommy immediately fired a grenade into one of the far left windows of the terminal building and emptied a whole magazine into the entire corrugated metal door near the opening of the hanger where fire was coming from. We saw 2 figures fall dead in the moonlight through the crack in the door. My crew had excellent fire discipline. Nobody’s magazine ran out of ammo at the same time so that at lease two thirds of the team was laying down fire while the others were reloading. While Tommy was reloading a grenade and another 30 round magazine; I yelled over the din of outgoing and incoming fire, “Tommy, fire another grenade into the terminal and then spray it with another mag!” “Nag, nag, nag,” Tommy replied evenly and sarcastically with his voice slightly elevated so I could hear him. I slowly turned to look at him incredulously. I said, “You know we only got about 10 minutes to put this down before the pilots start their final approach and I have to tell them to either circle or go to an alternate refueling and check point.” “I don’t want to arouse the suspicion of the guys working in the tower, which is what will happen when the planes call to advise them that they have changed their flight plans or holding or landing patterns,” I continued. Fortunately, at night, the gunfire just looks like other blinking taxiway and runway lights and was located in a remote area of the airport complex, far enough from public roadways, and wouldn’t arouse any visual or audible attention. Additionally, the waiting fuel truck was located behind the hanger and wouldn’t be brought around until the planes had arrived, parked, and the engines shut down. If it was up front in anticipation of the arriving aircraft, a stray round could easily have set off the fuel and that wouldn’t be so easy to cover up. Just cleaning up this gun fight mess up was going to be a fuckin project and a half. “The Golden Dragon Society; It’s not just a job it’s a FUCKIN ADVENTUUUUURE!!!” Tommy yelled. Tommy fired his second grenade into the right side of the terminal building windows and then sprayed about half of the magazine from left to right at about 3 and half feet off the ground and then the other half from right to left about 6 inches off the ground so he would at least wound anyone trying to take cover laying down behind the thin sheet metal and dry wall. Tommy loved quoting one liners; but during a fuckin gun battle?!! I never saw or heard anything like it. Tommy reloaded the grenade launcher and changed magazines. I asked, “How many of those things you got left?” Tommy unsure of which I was inquiring said, “I’ve got 3 grenades and 5 full magazines.” “I’m going to fire a grenade in the group of shadows on the field between the hanger and taxiway and then pick off any movement with my night scope. When I say so you and the boys rush the terminal. I’ll charge the Hanger,” Tommy Continued. Tommy flipped the selector to “semi-auto”, fired his grenade, and I saw the outline of 3 bodies fly into the air and then he fired 2 shots each into 2 men that weren’t affected by the grenade blast. Tommy quickly said, “Go! go! go!” Then as if in slow motion I saw a figure peer above a broken window in the middle of the terminal wall and then out of my peripheral vision to my right, before I could say anything, I saw Yi Ping’s younger brother Yi San stand up and about to hop between the freight carts we were hiding behind and he was shot right in the throat. His C-2 and C-3 vertebrae flew out the back of his neck with a splash of blood. A look of horror came over Yi Ping’s face. Tommy simultaneously took aim and flipped the selector back to “full auto” and fired a 10 round burst in the direction of the figure that just killed Yi Ping’s brother. We heard a yelp come from that general direction. Everybody advanced on the building as suggested by Tommy and subsequently instructed by me. I said, “Be sure we get a live prisoner, I wanna know who caused this goat fuck! Oscar and Michael, you back up Tommy, the rest of you on me.” As we got closer to the buildings Tommy placed a new grenade in the launcher, reloaded his M-16 with a full magazine, flipped the selector to “safe” and then let it hang from its sling, and drew his .45 and flipped off the safety. I was entering the terminal with my men at the same moment Tommy, Oscar, and Michael were entering the hanger. As Tommy stepped up to the hanger door he peered inside. He saw 3 dead bodies on the ground and then located the light switch against the wall in the moonlight. He flipped it on and immediately drew fire from the far right hand side of the hanger. Oscar had stepped in right behind Tommy and before he could react Tommy shot 5 rounds from his .45 center mass and the attacker flew against the inside of the wall smearing blood on the wall as he slowly slumped to the ground in a heap. Oscar recognized one of the dead bodies on the floor next to the door and said, “I know this guy! He’s from Stanford’s crew!!”