Fentanyl, Inc. by Ben Westhoff

Author:Ben Westhoff [Westhoff, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780802147950
Publisher: Grove Atlantic
Published: 2019-09-04T16:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

At his apartment, Dowson handed me a computer printout listing his company’s latest drugs. He enclosed it in a plastic sleeve and asked me not to remove it from the apartment. Compared to the previous list he had e-mailed me three months earlier, it had many changes, but in general the items listed remained obscure, little-known NPS with gibberish-sounding names, like AB-CHFUPYCA. I couldn’t begin to pronounce many of them.

I recognized some fentanyl analogues, including MAF and BUF-fentanyl, also known as benzoylfentanyl, an obscure analogue with no data about human use available. As the print-out noted, one kilogram of benzoylfentanyl sold for $2,400. The bulk pricing indicated that the intended clients for these chemicals weren’t individual users but drug distributors, such as I was pretending to be.

“What about ten kilograms, what would the cost be?” I asked.

“Ten kilograms, ten times [the price],” he said. “There is no discount.”

Also on his product list were stimulants, depressants, and more than a dozen varieties of synthetic cannabinoids, with names like MMB-Fubica and AMB-Chmica. These were the next generation of fake marijuana products since the banning of John William Huffman’s JWH series (China has scheduled at least nine JWH compounds)—or perhaps the next, next generation.

As I looked over the list, Dowson’s expression became increasingly concerned. “We are afraid that a reporter come to our lab, to our country, to find out why we synthesize these chemicals, or why we sell these chemicals to your country,” he said. “To let your people’s health down. To harm your country’s people. So, I wonder whether I should take you to our lab.”

Still harboring doubts about me, he decided we should talk more over lunch. After I respectfully declined his offer to treat me to McDonalds, we settled on a local restaurant near Shanghai University. I discreetly texted Jada our location, as best as I could make it out. As we continued getting to know each other, our conversation sometimes veered in bizarre directions. “Why US government not bomb North Korea?” he said, apropos of nothing. “It is not good. And they have big weapon. The US government should bomb it. It’s a responsibility. For the US, and also for China.” Mostly he expressed admiration for the United States, including the leadership abilities of Donald Trump. The Chinese would always be grateful to the United States for defending their country against Japan in the Second World War, he noted.

He asked about my specific reason for meeting him. I explained that I was here at the behest of a friend from the States who was an NPS distributor. He was interested in making bulk purchases of fentanyl analogues and other drugs, and had asked me to visit Dowson’s lab. If, according to my assessment, the lab had high enough quality standards, then my friend would go into business with him.

This explanation didn’t entirely satisfy Dowson.

Why didn’t he come himself?

“Because I was already planning to come to China, to visit a friend,” I said, improvising.

A friend? Where?

“In Wuhan,” I said, naming the city from which I’d arrived the previous night.

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