Kelong Kings: Confessions of the world's most prolific match-fixer Read online

  Ah Kang's betting house was located in an industrial area with rundown buildings and abandoned factories quite some distance away from downtown Xiemen. He had put ten guys together inside a dilapidated shop-house; each sitting in front of a computer and connected to a betting site; each of them waiting for Ah Kang to deliver his instructions. Rajendra Prasad met with Ah Kang and returned after a couple of days telling me that the business was legit.

  Now that everything was set, before I traveled to the United States, I made plans to fly to Panama City for an international friendly match that was going to be played there between the home team and Haiti. Just a couple weeks earlier I had received information that Cuba had pulled out of the upcoming 2009 Gold Cup in the United States because they were afraid of their players defecting. It was a massive loss for me because I had already invested in the Cuban team during the 2008 Caribbean Cup in Montego Bay, Jamaica. Fortunately, Haiti had been drawn to replace Cuba in the Gold Cup and I was on good terms with them as well. Since the Haitians are French-speakers, I called Alassane to assist me.

  "Hey Alassane, how are you?" I asked. "You speak French, right?"

  "Oui".

  "Good. Would you like to accompany me to Panama? I need you to talk to some Haitians for me".

  Panama City is a very nice town: well developed, high-rise buildings and so on. I read on the internet about their dirty past and about them being a hub for drug-money laundering so their wealth did not come as a surprise. Alassane and I had a thick schedule ahead of us in Panama. First of all, we proceeded to meet with the presidents of the Panamanian and Haitian FAs. I didn't really open up too much with them; I just wanted to meet them so that they would know my face. My connection to the Haitian team was their goalkeeper, a man called Jean. Jean helped me gather a few players in a Panama hotel room and Alassane asked them our ordinary set of questions.

  "Are you interested in playing in Asia?" he tempted.

  We often ask this just to build a relationship, then comes the second question.

  "How much are you being paid?"

  Usually these players were paid two to three thousand dollars per month so when we started talking about 10-15 thousand dollars per match, they got excited. Once they bit the bait, I pulled the hook.

  "Are you going to win this match?" I asked and Alassane translated. "What for? Might as well take some money home. Healthy money. Go back home and put it to good use".

  At that point, if the game has got no bearing at all, the players will consider their options carefully.

  "Fuck. Might as well", they'll say. "OK".

  Done.

  That's how I won the Haitian players over to my side while in Panama. But Panama is a bad place to host international friendlies. For some reason, matches played in Panama are seldom put up for live betting. The same is true of El Salvador, unless the game is aired live on television. To make a long story short, there was no live betting for our Panama vs Haiti fixture. We made no money but got closer to the Haitians, and the Gold Cup in the United States was just a couple of months down the road.

  On the following day Alassane and I flew to Nashville, Tennessee, for the USA vs Trinidad and Tobago 2010 FIFA World Cup qualifier. Before the match, I hooked up with the T&T boys that I had also met in Jamaica and told them that I needed a 3-0 result. Two out of three players didn't look convinced, only one of them sounded like he considered the mission seriously.

  "I need three goals", I told them. "Conceding the first two will not be a problem so just work on one additional goal for me. Please just focus on 3-nil".

  I had three, unconvinced, back-line defenders and no goalkeeper but I decided to take my chances nonetheless. I estimated that the United States was going to win by at least two goals; I mean, this was my assumption, based on my knowledge of football. All that my boys had to do was help me get that one extra goal. Ah Kang, who was financing the fix, didn't even ask me who my players were or what positions they played in; he trusted that I could get the job done.

  The match kicked off and the US went ahead with Jozy Altidore: one-nil. Then Jozy scored a second goal: two-nil; we needed just one more. In the 90th minute, Altidore took yet another shot from the edge of the box, not an irresistible effort, but the goalie fumbled and let the ball slip below his arms and into the net. The T&T goalkeeper was not on my payroll but the way he conceded Jozy Altidore's third personal goal made it look like he was. I was happier than Altidore for the hat-trick he pulled. We won our bet and Ah Kang was content with my achievement. Since the maximum amount of cash that one can carry into the USA is 100 thousand US dollars, I was 30 thousand dollars short and couldn't pay all three T&T players after the match. I promised them that the remaining money would be delivered in Trinidad and Tobago soon enough.

  When I returned to Singapore from the US, Bee Hoon visited me and gave me 100 thousand Singapore dollars on behalf of Ah Kang: my slice of the pie. On the following day, Dan called Murugan.

  "I heard that Wilson fixed a game for Ah Kang in the USA", he said in a bitter tone.

  When a match is fixed, other betting houses will find out that there was one large-scale winner. Dan had probably gathered the information about me in the market and was not too happy with my progress. I was to learn at my expense that Dan doesn't like others to supersede him, be more successful or make more money than he his making. He will be your very best friend when you are down but, when you are up, he will start to turn against you and attempt to poison your relationships with others, especially if these are profitable or potentially profitable contacts.

  As soon as the money was in my hands, I made arrangements for a good friend of mine to travel to the Caribbean and settle the outstanding debt with the T&T player who had not received his share. My runner this time was a dear friend named Shanker. Danny, Shanker and myself were best childhood friends; there had always been a good chemistry between us. I gave Shanker 30 thousand dollars and bought him a ticket to the UK; from there he was supposed to travel to Trinidad and Tobago but he didn't. He boarded the flight to the UK then went missing. I later learned that he had a series of unsettled debts with loan sharks and that he used my money to pay off his creditors.

  "Mother-fucker", I said to Danny. "Shanker took off with my 30 thousand. He betrayed our friendship for 30 thousand fucking dollars. That's what I was worth to him, he took my money and ran off with it. What should I do now?"

  It was like telling the pot that the kettle is black, because Danny had taken off with three times that much money in 1996 after the Atlanta Olympics.

  "Wilson", said Danny, "call him and ask him to come back".

  "And give him another chance? Fuck you Danny", I said to him. "I'm not going to do that. If you mention this guy again, I'm going to lose your friendship too".

  The business relationship with Ah Kang paved the way for my return to Syria. By then Ah Kang trusted me completely and I didn't have any more problems with up-front cash. He would just ask: "What's next?"

  "I can go to Syria and do some league matches there".

  "Is that possible?" asked Ah Kang. "Dan lost three consecutive games with you in Syria".

  "The reason we lost", I argued, "is because we had no cash in hand to show the players".

  "OK", he seemed convinced. "How much money do you need?"

  "I need to bring 100 thousand US dollars with me and show them to the players".

  This time around I wanted to carry the money with me to have the upper hand, throw my weight around and show the boys what was on the table for them to take.

  "OK, you'll get your money", said Ah Kang. "Go and do what you have to".

  As expected, with the cash on the table, the Syrian guys were really moving. I had a local man named Samir running the show for me in Syria. He and I had been introduced by the Syrian national team player whom I had met on my first trip to Damascus. Samir had lots of connections in the football milieu and was able to coordinate everything for me. He linked me to two teams over which
he had good, solid control. One was Al Wahda FC, a Damascus team, the other was al-Nawair SC from Hama; five or six of their players were on board, the very best of the lot.

  I have to thank the betting companies for their hard work and professionalism. They were able to offer on-line gambling for leagues anywhere from Azerbaijan to Yemen and, thankfully, for the Syrian Premier league. Samir and I planned every detail ahead of the Syrian matches: one goal in the first-half, two goals in the second. One-two, this was our system, because the odds for the Over/Under were usually 2.5 and the handicap was often half-ball or one-ball. With one goal in the first-half and two in the second, we could clear both hurdles. Samir would sit in the stands and whistle to the boys on the pitch when the time was ripe to concede a goal. The goalkeeper would then turn to look at us and nod; he knew exactly what to do. With the money on the table, the goals were flowing accordingly. It did not matter how soft the shot or the header was, so long as it was on target, the ball would land inside the net.

  First match, second match, third match: everything was cruising according to our plan; we were doing extremely well in the Syrian Premier league. The scores were so perfect that they earned me the nickname 'King of Syria' back in Singapore. I was earning between two to three hundred thousand Singapore dollars every week only from the Syrian games. Since the volumes on the matches were very small, I couldn't bet on my own on the internet; I needed Ah Kang and his betting house to get the kind of volumes that I desired and make it worth the fix. Everything was perfect; I was making money, had enough cash to fix my own matches and had become my own boss. I didn't need Dan anymore and he was becoming increasingly jealous of me. We seldom spoke and I never called him for my fixes.

  I worked incessantly with Ah Kang, accomplishing more and more games. I organized tournaments and friendly fixtures in Syria, Bahrain, Egypt or anywhere I anticipated that there would be betting. Through some French speaking African contacts of mine I arranged for Congo to play in Jordan and in Bahrain. I paid for their airline tickets and accommodation and flew them over. Unfortunately, there was no betting on these matches.

  Zimbabwe was always willing to travel for business so, in May 2009, I brought them to Amman, Jordan. I had sent my standard overture e-mail to the Jordan FA to establish a contact and then had started corresponding with them. I had followed up with a phone call and had got the ball turning.

  In a short span of time I was able amass close to four million Singapore dollars; a huge sum of money in Singapore and probably anywhere else in the world. I could have retired; I could have stopped doing dirty things and started investing in real estate. In Singapore you can buy a flat in a condominium before it is even built. All you need to do is pay 20 percent of the actual price upfront; if the flat is worth one million dollars, you pay 200 thousand in advance and the rest can be settled when the condo is ready for moving in. By the time construction is finished, its value will have increased by 300 thousand dollars. You sell it and cash in on a handsome profit. I could have bought ten condos and would have made three million dollars in three or four years' time just by sitting there and shaking my leg. I had the brains to invest wisely but I never paid heed to my good intuitions. Don't ask me why, I don't know the answer myself. I guess that I was not thinking ahead; I was just living my life day by day and, exception made for my mother, I was alone. If I had had a family, in the back of my mind, I would have thought: "Fuck, you're ready. Just go and buy a house for them".

  I did have a girlfriend back then, with whom I had discussed the prospect of marriage, but she was 19 years my junior and probably felt that it was too early to tie the knot. She was also from a different religious background and I was not willing to convert to Islam. I'm not a Hindu fanatic but, if you convert, you lose the respect of your fellow Indians and are ridiculed by your peers. Eventually our relationship just died out and she got married to a Pakistani.

  Since the business with Ah Kang was producing a lot of money, the sums that I gambled increased steadily; I was regularly placing one or two hundred thousand dollar bets per match on the top European leagues. At one point I was sitting in my same old coffee shop beside my home with three million dollars in my jeans pockets. The money hadn't changed me; I still had my simple Honda, which I rented from a friend's friend, and my ordinary clothes. I didn't patronize expensive places, just the same old coffee shop and the barber shop next door.

  "Wilson, you have money", asked the barber once as he cut my hair, "why don't you wear a nice watch? You don't wear a watch at all, why is that?"

  "OK", I thought, "it's time to buy myself a watch".

  I spent 20 thousand dollars on a Rolex but still sat in the same coffee shop and ate the same Indian food. I wore my new shining Rolex on my wrist when I went out to nightclubs. I paid off my mother's outstanding loan with the Housing Development Board and helped my family clear all of their backlogs. It's the only money that I put to good use; the rest, I just gambled away.

  CHAPTER X

  Unsettled debts

  On May 16th, 2009, my life took a 360-degrees turn. I dropped two friends off at Singapore's Changi international airport: they were running late and needed to catch a flight to Penang, Malaysia. I made a massive blunder when, instead of taking the East Coast Parkway, I chose to try a new route to the airport. I arrived at Terminal 2 in the nick of time and quickly parked the car along a double yellow line on one side of the road. I left the ignition on to let the security officers know that the driver must be somewhere nearby, hopped out of the car and rushed my friends inside to the check-in counter. The airline personnel told my friends that they would not be allowed to board the flight so I attempted to convince the manager to make an exception. He ran a quick check, gave them the green light and off they strolled waving goodbye. After my friends had boarded their flight, I stopped at McDonald's in the airport's basement and grabbed a coke and a burger. As I returned to my car, I saw two CISCO security guards standing next-to it. CISCO are private guards that provide security in banks, airports and prison departments all over Singapore. I knew that I was not supposed to park my car on the yellow lines for too long but by then the damage was done and I was ready to receive a 150 dollar parking ticket.

  "It's 150 dollars", I calculated. "Fuck the ticket, I easily gamble tens of thousands per match. What's 150 dollars? It's not going to change my life".

  As I approached my car, I addressed the guard politely.

  "Brother", I asked, "have you issued the summons?"

  "Yes", he replied.

  I did not add another word, then, as I made to open the car's door, the guard gave me a sharp slap on the wrist.

  "You're not supposed to move your vehicle", he admonished. "The police are on their way".

  The slap received blew my radiator and my blood began rushing to my head.

  "You mother-fucker", I shouted. "Who gave you the right to touch me?"

  When I get angry, there's a lot of flavor to my words.

  "Na bei chee-bye! Lan jiao!"

  As I continued my out-pour of profanities in Hokkien, I saw the second CISCO officer standing near the car watching the scene without intervening. Then the first officer called out to him.

  "Call for back-up", he said. "This guy is violent".

  The second officer just ignored him and stood there enjoying my show. The situation was getting out of hand so I walked back into the departure hall to cool down while waiting for the real police to arrive. I thought things over and remembered reading an article in the local papers which claimed that CISCO guards had no right to detain or arrest an individual. Perhaps I valued my ego and pride too much because I chose to walk back to my car and drive away. I stepped out of the terminal and made to climb into my vehicle when the officer tried to stop me. I made shoulder contact with him, managed to push him aside, opened the car's door and hopped in. The officer immediately rushed in front of my vehicle and refused to move. I wondered why the guy was being so overzealous in trying to apprehend me. />
  "You issued your summons", I shouted from the car window. "Just let me go. What else do you want from me?"

  I fired up my engine, put the car in reverse and began steering to my right to avoid the officer. I drove backwards for about 20 meters but the officer ran forward to prevent me from leaving. At that point I had no intention of waiting for the cops so I just switched to first gear, steered all the way to my left and started advancing slowly, trying to avoid the fucker. Once my car passed him and I felt safe to accelerate, I drove away. When the police arrived on the scene I was nowhere in sight and the CISCO officers lodged a report in which they were the sole complainants.

  The car I was driving on that day wasn't registered in my name, it was owned by a Chinese friend of a friend, so when the police tracked him down from the license plate number he gave them my personal details.

  "Wilson Raj Perumal was driving my car", he told the officers. "This is his address".

  The police showed up at my mother's house. Since she is very protective of me, the minute she saw the police at her door, she got very worried and decided not to tell them where I was.

  "My son doesn't live here anymore", she said to the officers.

  After the police left, my mother called me.

  "Wilson", she questioned, "the police came looking for you. What happened?"

  "Nothing, mother", I waved the matter aside, "it's just a small thing, nothing to really worry about".

  On the following day I decided to turn myself in and walked to the closest police station. I reasoned that it was only a traffic offense, nothing serious, but, when I entered the police station, the officer asked me to sit down and called another policeman over to handcuff me. Then he began reading out the charges.

  "Using criminal force to deter a public servant from discharge of his duty", he stated, "causing hurt by a rash act which endangers the life or the personal safety of others; using vulgar language; driving without a valid license and insurance".