I'm a Master in India

“To go to Canada, you’ll need to get another Canadian passport,” Ron replied with a smile.

“Then get one! I’ll pay. My family is there,” the fat corrupt official hastily agreed.

“No problem. Three hundred thousand US dollars. I’ll get you on a plane to the US within three days.”

“What!” the fat corrupt official shrieked. “You’re not joking, are you? In Brazil, it only costs fifty thousand dollars.”

“Or, I could send you back to Brazil?” Ron’s face turned cold.

Luca wanted to say something, but Ron glared him into silence.

Trying to take five hundred thousand US dollars to the US completely intact? That was a bit too naive.

Look at what this scumbag official did; he even dared to embezzle money meant to save children’s lives.

For someone like this, Ron wouldn’t feel satisfied unless he completely fleeced him.

The official wanted to curse and was furious, but after glancing at the bodyguards beside Ron, he quickly backed down.

This was Mumbai. If he angered the other party, he might get ripped off.

Honestly, if it weren't for Luca, Ron wouldn't have wanted to leave him even a single dollar.

To leave this godforsaken place as quickly as possible, the fat corrupt official gritted his teeth and agreed.

“Three days! If you can’t do it, I’ll leave.”

Ron chuckled softly. He didn’t care about the other party’s bluster.

Leave? Without his permission, the other party couldn't even leave this wooden shack.

Luca gave his subordinate a look and followed Ron outside.

“Brother, he’s related to my family, after all.”

“He’s a villain. Don’t tell me you don’t know what he did.”

“Even so, that doesn’t mean—”

“Alright, Luca. I’m only taking three hundred thousand. I’m not interested in the rest; you can handle it however you see fit.”

Luca paused, looking awkward. He had ideas about hundreds of thousands of dollars too.

What acquaintance? Is that as enticing as US dollars? He didn't care about the lives of the Brazilians who bought the medicine, so why would he care about this?

Getting that corrupt official safely to the US was already showing some old ties; at least he wasn't completely ruthless.

“Keep an eye on him, don’t let him slip away,” Ron reminded him. “He should still have connections in Canada. We just take the money; we don’t cause other trouble.”

“I know, just take the money, don’t kill anyone,” Luca patted his chest and promised.

Tsk, that sounded strange. Ron shook his head and left.

Ron went to find Hella. The passport business would fall to her.

Hella had just finished showering. She had stayed in the study for too long, and the light box had made her sweat all over.

“You said you needed me for something?” She smoothed her hair, looking refreshed.

“Oh, business. Big business,” Ron snapped back to attention.

Hella glanced at him. “Come inside first?”

“No, the business I'm talking about is dollars. That US passport, the one I mentioned last time.”

“Oh, I remember now. That passport is being verified and will be ready soon.”

Clean passports had to go through two verification steps. There was a customs official at Mumbai airport who had access to the airport computer; he was responsible for the first check.

Gani, who handled the passport business for Hadhan, would have someone write down the passport number and original holder's name for each passport needing verification on a piece of paper, then hand it to that official at a designated time and place.

The official would cross out any passports on the list that were specially marked in the computer.

A day or two later, the official would return the paper. Some of the specially marked passports belonged to original holders who had been declared international fugitives.

Some original holders were listed as suspects, possibly involved in illegal trade or having unsettling political connections.

These marked passports would be filtered out and couldn't be sold on the black market; Hadhan also valued his reputation in business.

However, marked passports were still useful. Hella would remove the stitching and take out usable parts to serve as blank pages for other passports.

Within India, they could also be used as registration passports when foreigners checked into hotels.

Hotel staff weren't that meticulous when filling out the C form; any passport would do.

Except for being unable to leave the country, problematic passports were still valid in India.

After the first screening by customs, the remaining passports were sent to the second verification checkpoint - the various airline offices.

Major airlines also kept a list of specially marked passports, mainly recording bad passengers with poor credit ratings, those who had defrauded the airline, or those who had behaved violently while flying.

Those who needed fake passports were smugglers or illegal individuals; they naturally didn't want to attract the attention of airlines or customs.

Only after passing these two checkpoints were the remaining passports considered clean.

Gani, Hadhan's subordinate, had people placed in most airlines in Mumbai, ensuring that the selected passports could be used in most countries around the world.

The passport being prepared for that Brazilian corrupt official was currently going through this process.

“My dear, we need to speed things up. Three days, and we also need to prepare another Canadian passport.”

“Why the sudden rush? Look at my eyes, I have dark circles,” Hella deliberately bent down, pulling down her neckline.

“You’re beautiful, Hella,” Ron soothed her. “But like I just said, this is big business, three hundred thousand US dollars!”

“What!” Hella straightened up with a clang, her pajamas swaying inside.

“Aren’t you stunned?” Ron puffed out his chest proudly. “I really fleeced him good.”

He then told Hella about the corrupt official. He wouldn't feel guilty ripping off someone like that, no matter how many times.

“God, this is a big fat sheep in the passport business. Even if you had asked for five hundred thousand dollars, they would have eventually agreed,” Hella regretted not making an extra two hundred thousand dollars.

“Isn’t that too exaggerated? I feel like three hundred thousand is his bottom line.”

“No, Ron, you don’t understand. He would agree. He’s the kind of client whose life would be in danger without a passport.”

In Hella’s career, there were three main types of customers who bought illegal passports.

The first type were economic refugees, people forced to leave their homes due to famine or poverty.

Most of them would choose European countries like Germany or Italy, hoping to live a better life abroad.

A family or several families would team up, sometimes even an entire village would pool money to buy one passport, sending a particularly favored son to the beautiful place they yearned for.

Once there, that person would work to repay the loan. Finally, they would buy a new passport so other young men and women could come over.

These passports were usually cheaper, ranging from five thousand to twenty thousand US dollars, and were referred to as 'poor passports' by insiders like Hella.

Political refugees were the second largest group of customers. They often fled abroad because of very serious unrest or war.

The Persian Gulf countries were the largest potential customer base; they were close enough to Mumbai and had never had a single day of peace.

The price of these passports was usually within fifty thousand US dollars, with the specific price depending on the danger of escaping the war zone.

The third type of customer was illegal fugitives, who could be smugglers, assassins, or even overthrown dictators, warlords, or secret police.

Their need for passports was the most urgent, and they often paid any price.

Getting a passport meant a new life; their past history and crimes were wiped clean the moment the deal was made.

Not getting a passport meant everything was over; no amount of money would help.

“So that corrupt official will definitely agree, unless he loves money more than his own life,” Hella led Ron to her studio.

She picked up a passport from the table and handed it to him. It was the US passport that corrupt official needed.

Unexpectedly, it wasn't that new; some areas were even deliberately stained to make every page of the fake passport look realistic and natural.

The stamp was also slightly crooked at an angle, with just the right amount of blurriness.

“Once the airline checks it, it can be used?” Ron asked.

“Almost,” Hella pointed to the blank travel record pages in the passport. “We have to write a history for every newly produced passport.”

Old passports obtained from foreigners often had several months or even years of blank travel records inside.

If this didn’t match the current holder’s experience, it would cause trouble.

Some passports had expired visas and had to have that period erased from the passport to be usable.

To get an exit stamp from Mumbai airport before the last visa expired, making people believe the passport holder had exited within the visa's validity period, some manipulation was required.

Hella would use a spare stamp to create a history of movement between countries for this passport.

She had to ensure the time logic made sense and that the latest stamp was definitely a visa stamp from India.

This was also a skill. Hella’s desk was piled high with flight logs from major airlines, listing the flight dates and arrival dates for flights to various countries.

The passport histories fabricated using this information were highly credible, with almost no flaws.

“I couldn’t do this kind of business,” Ron exclaimed in admiration.

“That’s not the hardest part. I once even created twenty years of travel history for a client, allowing him to safely travel from Africa to the United States.”

“Only you could do that,” Ron shrugged. “So, can you get two passports done in three days?”

“Very difficult!” Hella shook her head. “There’s not enough time. At most, I can get the US passport done.”

“Then what do we do?” Ron was dumbfounded. They couldn't just rob him for the three hundred thousand, could they?

“We can only go the ‘bleaching route’ to Canada. I’ll handle it personally,” Hella quickly decided.

“Bleaching?” Ron was confused.

“It’s a shortcut to quickly send clients to their destination. Someone has to cooperate,” Hella smiled mysteriously.

It was a three hundred thousand dollar deal; she was going to handle it herself.

Previously, this kind of job would be handled by Hadhan’s people, and Hella would only be responsible for forging the passport.

But the commission ratio for that was small, at most a few thousand dollars.

Hadhan’s people didn’t know about the Brazilian corrupt official. She would find other reasons to brush them off.

This deal, she and Ron would do on the side. No matter what, they had to get the lion’s share of the three hundred thousand.

“Okay, in three days, I’ll bring that Brazilian guy to cooperate with you,” Ron nodded.