Making A Killing

The myth of capital’s good intentions

By Ted C. Fishman

They call war an act, but it isn’t. It largely consists in outwitting people,
robbing widows and orphans, and inflicting suffering on the helpless for one’s
own ends—- and that’s not art: that’s business.
—Kenneth Roberts

L ast spring, as the Bush Administration tuned its war pitch to the
international market, the evening news took on the tone of an annual report.
Every night, it seemed, another American official exhorted another audience
in another world capital to eliminate tariffs, privatize industries, and court
international investors, and I realized----somewhere between Ghana and
Berlin—that the former CEOs who make up the current administration were
putting to good use the habits they had honed in the executive suite.1 Their
routines were marked by the crisp showmanship of men educated in the art
of pumping a stock offering or rallying support for a merger, and their
message was as forceful and consistent as a PowerPoint slide:
• Terrorism must be defeated.
• Global trade will defeat it.
Eager to disseminate this couplet and mindful that poor nations nurture
radicals, Treasury Secretary Paul O’Neill spent two weeks traveling across
Africa with Bono, the rock star and activist. In visits to Ghana, South Africa,
Uganda, and Ethiopia, O’Neill stressed that a continent’s only hope for
peace and prosperity was to tear down “barriers to trade.” President Bush
himself extolled the healing power of trade in Mexico, Peru, El Salvador,
Germany, Russia, France, and the Vatican. Former President Carter even
traveled to Cuba, carrying the antiterrorism and pro-trade message to one of
the world s last bastions of command economics.

1
The current administration is full of former CEOs. Vice President Dick Cheney ran
Halliburton, the energy-services firm; Treasury Secretary Paul O’Neill headed Alcoa; Defense
Secretary Donald Rumsfeld was CEO of both G.D. Searle and General Instrument; Commerce
Secretary Don Evans headed Tom Brown, another energy-services firm; Labor Secretary Elaine
Chao was CEO of the United Way of America; and Chief of Staff Andrew Card was CEO of the
American Automobile Manufacturers Association. Bush himself was chairman and CEO of
Spectrum 7, a Texas oil company.
Ted C. Fishman is a contributing editor of Harper’s Magazine and a former currency trader.
His Last article for the magazine, “Up in Smoke,” appeared in the December 1998 issue.

Making A Killing 1
 And why not? If international trade really has the power to convert
terror to prosperity, who wouldn’t buy a few shares? The administration has
endorsements from economists on the left and on the right, from editorialists
at the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. They have an ideal case
study in the United States, where anyone can walk into Safeway or Costco
and witness a world of affordable bounty: desktop computers with more
calculating power than the Cold War Pentagon for $700, strawberries from
Mexico the size of apples for 99 cents a pint. They have numbers too. Capital
has traveled more freely across more borders over the last twenty years than
it has at any time since the first wave of modern globalization, in 1870;
average world wages have spiked in direct proportion. A widely reported
World Bank study of eighty countries—weighted for population—has shown
that personal income grew four times faster in developing countries that
opened their markets.
That global trade will defeat terror seems axiomatic. Where countries
scuttle restrictive laws, allow people to launch businesses, and otherwise
prepare for an ever freer world economy, peace will follow. New York Times
columnist Thomas Friedman summed up the thesis as the “Golden Arches
Theory of Conflict Prevention,” the mostly true observation that countries with
McDonald’s restaurants do not wage war against one another. “Let’s not kid
ourselves,” Secretary of State Cohn Powell explained last fall to a Washington
audience that included representatives of several African nations. “Business is
business, and capital, money, is a coward. It is drawn to places which have
the rule of law, places where there is an accountability of government,
educated healthy workforces, secure working conditions. Capital will flee—
money will flee from corruption, bad policies. It will flee from conflict. It will
flee from sickness.”
It is a powerful presentation, and wrong. Global trade has a sadly
mixed record as a creator of wealth and as a peacemaker. Moreover, where
the rewards justify the risks, money will brave any hellhole.
We enjoy the best part of what global trade has to offer, and it might
seem condescending to suggest that other countries cannot handle it. Better
access to financial markets, improved manufacturing, privatization, and
deregulation are powerful forces indeed. Yet money, we sometimes forget,
has no special designs, no particular desire to improve anyone’s life. The
freeing up of the world’s markets may have nothing to do with the declining
fortunes of many of its citizens, but the capitalist impulse can just as
powerfully prolong poverty as end it. And even as the influx of capital helps
some countries prosper, it pulls others relentlessly toward war.
The lethal double dynamic begins with the dirt poor whom the spread
of global capitalism has not helped. Half the planet lives on less than two
dollars a day, a billion people on half that. For them, globalization has meant
little in terms of real income gain. Oxfam recently recalculated the statistics in
the World Bank study on developing countries, this time not weighted for
population, and determined that incomes for people in countries that are

Making A Killing 2
pursuing a global program grew just 1.5 percent. For one in three of these
countries, incomes actually rose more slowly than in states that resisted
reforms.2
There’s profit in all that poverty, and it is most cheaply extracted in the
form of war. Africa’s battles are fought by a labor pool whose wages
average 65 cents a day. An enterprising warlord can buy hundreds of willing
combatants for the cost of a single American marine.3 A low value on human
life makes war an attractive option; most of the world’s battles pit one group
of profiteers fighting with cheap soldiers against another.

T he wars we watch on TV, the carefully branded fights for which CNN and
Fox News work up trademark graphics and theme music, are not especially
lethal. The highest estimate of direct enemy and civilian casualties in
Afghanistan is 5,000—about the same as the number of Americans killed last
year by food poisoning. The latest count of the dead in Israel is less than half
that. The deadliest wars—forty around the world—are unseen. They slog
along for years, often ending briefly only to start again. They kill millions. They
are enterprises with global aspirations and connections, their prosecutors’
ambitions and links to the world at large like those of Coca-Cola or Sony. For
the warlords, mass killing is a corporate strategy executed with indifference
once seen only in ideologues.
Civil wars are where the action is. In a tally of only the bloodiest wars waged
between 1965 and 1999—-those in which more than 1,000 people were killed
a year—seventy-three were civil wars. Of the twenty-seven armed conflicts
being fought in 1999, only two were the old-fashioned cross-border kind.4
Ethnic and religious divisions, grievances over political participation and class,
matter little in today’s private wars. With few exceptions, wars have become
conflicts over property rights. The prize is control of the goods that attract the
tides of anonymous and mobile global capital that sweep up oil, diamonds,
capper, bananas, cacao, and coca.
Lack of economic diversity—often the very kind of specialization
that free marketers believe give small economies a chance in the world—is
by far the most important prelude to such wars. Economists Paul Collier and

2
Latin America is often touted as a showcase for liberalizing reforms. Yet compare the years before
and after globalization spread most rapidly. Over the twenty years ending in 1980, gross domestic
product in Latin America and the Caribbean grew by 75 percent per person, but over the next
twenty years—the period of great market liberalization and international investment—GDP rose
only 6 percent. Africa’s per capita GDP rose by a third from 1960 to 1980 but lost nearly half of that
gain over the next twenty year.
3
According to Amnesty International, 300,000 children under the age of eighteen participate in
thirty armed conflicts around the world. Most are in their teens, but some are as young as ten.
4
The most dangerous was may be hybrid wars, civil wars with powerful backers on opposing sides.
India and Pakistan’s standoff on Kashmir could erupt into the world’s most dangerous
conflagration if the warning slates make good on their nuclear threats. This is one war in which all
parties could use a dose of rational self-interest; even a drawn-out civil war would be less horrible
than a nuclear nightmare.

Making A Killing 3
Anke Hoeffler found that countries with one or two primary resources and
little economic diversity have a better than one-in-five chance of civil war in
any given year. Countries with no such dominant products have only a one-
in-one-hundred chance of war. A list of recent such conflicts includes the civil
wars at the opposite ends of Indonesia’s archipelago, one fought in the oil-
rich region of Aceh and the other in mineral-rich Irian Jaya. Cambodia and
Burma, meanwhile, have endured struggles to control the trade in timber,
drugs, and precious gems. In Latin America, where one of the world’s
longest-raging civil wars has beset Colombia for nearly half a century, narco-
entrepreneurs and revolutionaries light the government over proceeds from
the drug trade.
In Sudan, a country the United States labels a “state sponsor of
terrorism,” the latest war has waged nonstop for two decades and has cost 2
million lives—three times the death toll of the American Civil War. An
additional 4 million people have been made homeless. The dry Islamic north
of the country is deeply influenced by Arab North Africa, whereas the south
has much more in common with sub-Saharan Africa and is home to a wide
mix of religions, including Christianity and animism. The religious tension is real,
and conflict has also centered around water resources, but of the many
causes of this long war, competition for oil is the one with the longest legs.
Sudan is a rising star in the global energy market. Rich oil fields
had been discovered, there as early as 1970, but varying factions battled for
decades over how the riches would be divided. There was plenty of war but
not much actual oil.5 In the last two years, though, Sudan’s oil industry has
spouted into a $1-million-a-day government enterprise, and it is those profits
that have allowed the war to blossom. It’s easy to follow the money: The
humanitarian group Christian Aid and the U.N. recently reported on the
burned ruins of forty-eight villages the army had cleared to drill exploratory
wells. Rebels, meanwhile, have targeted oil companies and wells in
retaliation for such practices. In turn, the private partners of the government,
a collection of Asian, Canadian, and European oil giants anxious to develop
their investments, have built an infrastructure—a modern airport at Heglig, for
example—that the government now uses to slaughter its political enemies.
This sort of dynamic is as old as colonialism; of course, but global
financial markets have given a dying practice new life. Last year, amid
growing concern over Sudan’s appalling human-rights record—including
antiaircraft attacks on relief flights and the routine enslavement of non-
Muslims in the south—and, perhaps more important, its willingness to shelter
terrorists, the House and Senate each passed a version of the Sudan Peace
Act. Had it been made law, companies that did business in Sudan would
have been banned from the U.S. capital markets—a sort of corporate death

5
Chevron was developing oil fields in 1984 when it pulled out after three workers were shot by
rebels. That did not deter the company from continued investment in Africa, where Chevron
Texaco spokesman Fred Gorell says it will invest $21 billion over the next five years. “Africa is a huge
success story for us—and for Africa, as a result of our presence there,” he said.

Making A Killing 4
sentence in which companies would no longer be able to trade securities in
the world’s largest financial market. James Buckee, head of Talisman Energy
Inc., a Canadian company with close ties to the Sudanese government, said
at the time: “I don’t think anybody could afford not to have access to the
U.S. capital market…No asset is worth more than that.”
Buckee was not alone in his concerns. Bankers and brokerage houses
argued that capital markets ought never to be restricted, presumably not
even to genocidal regimes. The financial industry’s case was summarized
approvingly in the New York Law Journal by Jeffrey Cohen, a partner at
Coudert Brothers, an international law firm based in New York. Encouraging
all kinds of foreign companies to register in the United States, Cohen argued,
has proved valuable for the strength and prestige of the U.S. capital markets.
Our markets compete for business in an increasingly competitive global
environment, and a ban would merely send companies shopping in London
or Tokyo. “At the very least,” he wrote, “one may wonder (even after having
given due weight to the horrors of the events in Sudan) whether the likely
benefits outweigh the apparent negatives.”
Cohen does not say exactly how he weighed the benefits and horrors
or whether there is some threshold of horror above which he would
reconsider. Four million dead? Five million? Another Al Qaeda attack? In any
case, Bush Administration successfully fought the ban, and the Sudanese war,
fueled by money raised on the New York Stock Exchange, is on its way to
claiming 2 million more lives. In the logic of free markets, allowing investors to
underwrite mass murder is the system at work.

P rivatization is another benchmark of successful globalization, and it

is practiced with increasing vigor in Africa, where enterprising national
governments are finding that mineral rights can be converted easily into
long-term power and riches. In a world where state-run monopolies are
frowned upon, it turns out that the best solution is to sell the monopoly to
another state. This novel approach to privatization has found its highest
expression in the war currently taking place in the Democratic Republic of
Congo, often referred to as “Africa’s First World War.” What began as a civil
war in a country rich in gold, copper, diamonds, and timber is now being
fought with aid from six neighboring countries, all of them economic basket
cases.6
This unusual situation came about, as a United Nations report issued
last year explains, because the war is a “very lucrative business.” Several
associates of Ugandan president Yoweri Museveni, for example, were given

6
The term “basket case” originally described World War I soldiers who had all four limbs
amputated. It is an especially appropriate term in the DRC, where fighters often amputate their
enemies’ arms and legs—a practice they learned in colonial days from their Belgian occupiers.
More recently, amputation was used to horrifying effect in Sierra Leone, where special “cut hands”
soldiers maimed thousands and were rewarded by their commanders for the number of limbs they
brought back to camp.

Making A Killing 5
concessions to exploit diamonds, timber, coffee, and gold harvested in rebel-
controlled areas in return for Ugandan military support of the rebel leaders.
Meanwhile, reports the World Policy Institute, Zimbabwe’s president. Robert
Mugabe, committed his soldiers on condition that the DRC transfer large
mineral and business concessions to Zimbabwe (i.e., Mugabe’s friends and
family).
Since 1998, an estimated 350,000 people have been killed directly by
the war, and more than 2 million others have died from the disease and
starvation that go with it. Yet the warring parties are unabashed about their
motives; Zimbabwe even launched a public-relations campaign called
“Doing Business in the DRC.”
Entrepreneurial warlords and dictators are also reaping the benefits of
a more traditional brand of privatization. Liberia’s Charles Taylor, Africa’s most
Promethean war maker, pioneered the route from booty to hard cash.
Before international sanctions were imposed in 2001, diamond centers in
Belgium, Britain, and New York absorbed all the loot Taylor could supply. In
1998, $298 million worth of diamonds made its way from Liberia into Belgium,
the world’s largest diamond center. Now that diamonds are out, timber is in;
it matters not to the world’s buyers that Liberian logs come from the same
bloody conflicts—up to 200,000 dead since 1989—as Taylor’s diamonds.
Business is robust. Seventy-two percent of Liberia’s $106 million timber trade in
2000 was facilitated by French and Chinese companies. Taylor has been a
tireless privatizer, selling rights to his country’s land and resources to private
concerns. The stream of proceeds goes directly back into his was machine.

W e count on a world of free economic competition to push

nations and individuals to constantly improve what they make and to drive
down prices. The dynamic reliably produces miracles. I can, for instance, call
anywhere in Europe for 11 cents a minute, no trivial matter considering the
technology that makes the call possible and the intense competition that
makes it cheap. The dynamic also works well in the only market where
manufacturing efficiencies are easily translated into actual death. I can use
my call to Europe, for example, to place an order for long-range missiles or
combat rifles. With that call, I can take part in the nearly $60 billion arms
trade.7 It is a business in which everything has gone right for consumers.
Small arms and light weapons—such as pistols, assault rifles, and
handheld grenade launchers—are the T-shirts of the twenty-first century.
Countries that in the past may have counted on a nascent garment or shoe
industry to kick-start development now turn to producing for the low end of
the arms market. And, as with T-shirts, the market is now flooded. But even as

7
The industry’s biggest-grossing producers we four of the five permanent members of the U.N.
Security Council—the United States, the United Kingdom, France, and Russia. Together these
countries export 83 percent of the world’s arms. Not surprisingly, the biggest importers of arms are
the single resource states—particularly where the resource is oil. Saudi Arabia, the world’s largest oil
exporter, is also the world’s largest importer of weapons.

Making A Killing 6
the overall rate of manufacture declines in the post-Cold War period, the
number of small-arms manufacturers continues to climb as smaller
companies arise to take advantage of the newly global market. This year,
the Small Arms Survey in Geneva counted more than 1,000 companies in
ninety-eight states involved in some aspect of small-arms production.
Like clothing, small weapons are often forged in cheap manufacturing
centers around the world. As with American designer clothes made in China
or Honduras, far-flung arms factories make brand-name weapons under
license. The market is so wide open that even if countries were to ban the
sale of weapons out of their home factories, they would be almost powerless
to stop their domestic companies’ licensees in other countries from selling
wherever they please. Brazil, India, Indonesia, Iran, North and South Korea,
Malaysia, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, South Africa, and Turkey all export arms
made under license from the major arms-producing countries. One Belgian
company, FN Herstal, licenses its arms and ammunition in twenty countries.
Indonesian soldiers receive machine guns from the Turkish licensee of an
English rifle maker, though Great Britain has refused export licenses for the
very same weapon.
And, like designer clothes, brand-name weapons are easily copied.
Israel, South Africa, and Croatia sell knockoffs of the AK-47. The weapons
industry also has been adept at catering to its new youth audience,
reengineering assault rifles and other formidable weapons to be light enough
for child soldiers. A news account in the Independent of London detailed a
defense-industry expo held in New Delhi earlier this year at which an
attractive young woman hawked antitank missiles that “a five-year-old could
learn how to operate.”
The competition to make and sell small arms follows the pattern of
other goods subject to a worldwide manufacturing race that thrives on
cheap labor and plant facilities. The world is now in possession of 640 million
small arms and light weapons, enough to arm one in every ten people on the
planer. The glut creates a buyers’ market where what you pay for a
skateboard buys a rifle that can spray hundreds of rounds a minute with such
force that a hit on any part of the body can send victims to their death. In
Mogadishu there are 1 million assault rifles for 1.3 million people. The weapons
sell between the food and clothing stalls in local markets. An AK-47 from
North Korea costs around $200; an Egyptian model, $150; and a cheap
American rifle, $100. Elsewhere, used guns are incredibly cheap. In Aceh,
Indonesian soldiers sell surplus automatic rifles to enemy rebels for $6. With
armed foes, the government forces can better convince the corporate
Americans who mine there to pay the army more for security.
So brisk is the trade that small arms have become the instruments
of mass destruction in our age. International Physicians for the Prevention of
Nuclear War recently organized the first international medical conference on
small arms. Brian Rawson, a program coordinator for the organization, says
that reliable numbers are hard to come by, but his best estimate is that some

Making A Killing 7
6 million people have been killed in armed conflicts around the world in the
last decade, half of them by small arms.

O pen markets, though, are about more than material goods. Open
markets are about human potential. With access to the global economy,
people’s range of choices grows boundlessly making it hard for local
authorities to restrict citizens’ options. “Free trade is about freedom,” U.S.
Trade Representative Robert Zoellick has said. This notion was impressed upon
me recently when I used my ATM card in Amsterdam. With just the touch of a
few buttons, I accessed my mid-western bank account, filled with money I
had dutifully earned in the States, and pulled out crisp new euros, available
immediately for the legal purchase of Turkish hash and Russian hookers.
If I had more in my account, I might use the network that shoots
money around the globe for another practice frowned upon at home but
perfectly fine abroad: tax evasion. The Internal Revenue Service estimates
that as many as 2 million Americans have credit cards issued by banks in
offshore tax havens such as the Cayman Islands; many of them use those
cards to access money hidden from their spouses, creditors, litigants, or,
especially, the tax man.
To corporations, the world’s rich, and warlords around the world,
off-shore centers are an indispensable lever for opening global markets. They
present a valuable check on the hunger of the world’s governments for tax
revenue and their zeal for overregulation. Offshore centers push international
tax and regulatory competition in which all countries must vie against one
another to create welcoming environments for the world’s corporations and
investors. The most lightly taxed and superficially regulated win. “Tax
competition between states is a good thing,” declared the Wall Street
Journal. “The power of individuals and companies to vote with their feet is
one of the most potent weapons against overweening government. Any
attempt to deprive them of places to run must surely be considered an
attack on freedom and a threat to prosperity.”
For the offshore centers themselves, tax laws become a prime national
resource, one that attracts billions in deposits, provides local jobs, and draws
big spenders to the neighborhood resorts. Nearly $5 trillion sits blithely on
deposit in locales that resist regulation. The Cayman Islands is host to 2,240
mutual funds, 500 insurance companies, and 570 banks and trusts. Forty-
seven of the world’s largest banks have offices there, as do many of the
major trust companies and brokerage houses, all eager to advise clients
seeking the unique benefits of offshore banking. The Caymans’ population is
35,000. Its success has brought keen competition, some of it cut-rate. The
Pacific islands of Nauru and Vanuatu are the latest offshore centers
competing for business. Their advantage is that they are too poor even to
fake having regulators.
One of the standard offerings in an offshore center is a government
willing to keep foreign law enforcement out. Walk into a Bermuda courthouse

Making A Killing 8
and ask to see the court records of a bankrupt company, and the clerk will
tell you that case files are open only to the companies that file and other
parties to the legal location. In offshore centers, bankers and court officials
reveal only the barest details about locally incorporated companies that
break the law.
What works to give major corporations, tax evaders, and two-timing
spouses more possibilities also works for the plunder of the world’s brutes—
with one big difference. Blood money, once safely in its dummy account in
an offshore bank, is washed clean, free to transfer to a mainstream bank,
hedge fund, or foreign brokerage account.8 Although the vast majority of the
money flowing through the world’s banks is legitimate, the system moves
money so nimbly that it also provides cover for the multimillion—or billion—-
dollar fortunes of dictators, warlords, shady arms merchants, and mainstream
corporations up to no good. The estimates of how much criminal money is
entering the world financial system from all sources range between $500
billion and $1 trillion a year. The midpoint of the estimates tops the GDP of
Canada. That number does not include the unknown hundreds of billions of
dollars in illegal flight capital—money from government bribes, looting,
privatization schemes, and mineral Iicenses—that flow from corrupt regimes.
Offshore banking centers have the infrastructure to wash it all.
These secret channels exact a toll. Laundering illegal drug money
sustains the world’s largest business and its most violent. The channels enable
the thieves in kleptocracies. Hundreds of billions in illegal flight capital have
been tied to Russia’s conversion to capitalism, including its rigged
privatization schemes and organized crime. The channels also facilitate the
trade in nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons. Osama bin Laden not
only used the world’s shady money centers to finance Al Qaeda’s network;
he set up his own bank9 to move money out of sight of watchful Western
governments. The money used for Saddam Hussein’s re-armament campaign
is funneled through an impenetrable web of offshore bank accounts for
dummy corporations.
Once money makes it into the mainstream it is nearly impossible to
trace, let alone recover.10 The fortunes lost to the people of Sierra Leone,

8
Half of the money laundered this way, at least $250 billion of it, ends up in the United States, and
more is coming. Although they capture only a small fraction of shifty transactions, Suspicious
Activity Reports are the U.S. government’s chief bellwether for the trends in money laundering. The
number of reports has climbed steadily, from 52,069 in 1996 to 162,714 in 2000.
9
In Sudan.
10
Raud Salinas, the brother of the ex-president of Mexico, siphoned $87 million out of Mexico
through Citibank accounts in New York, Switzerland, and London with the help of a discreet
Citibank private banker willing to ask no questions and to set up a dummy corporation in the
Caymans with dummy accounts to disguise the transaction. Citibank was also instrumental in the
washing of $110 million looted from Nigeria by the nation’s former dictator, Sani Abacha. When
Abacha died, the bank provided his sons with a $39 million overdraft to facilitate moving their
money vulnerably on deposit in London to safer climes.

Making A Killing 9
Liberia, Sudan, and other nations being looted today will no doubt remain
hidden, safely accumulating interest.

T he world’s warring states hardly represent the kind of future responsible

free marketers hope for. None will soon join the WTO, and most would have
had more than their share of conflict no matter how the world economy was
structured. Greed is a violent impulse in any system. What has changed is
how prolonged wars fought on the cheap are enabled and rewarded. Booty
converts easily into profit in a world market where governments and
enterprises must constantly struggle for competitive advantage. Companies
that lose opportunities to extract oil, minerals, or timber cheaply don’t face
mere lost profits; they face competitors who will destroy them. Banking and
financial centers that service worldwide capital markets resist punishing
companies that patronize tyrants; they fear frightening off businesses that
prefer to shop for financing where executive decisions won’t be judged.
That’s the genius of capitalism.
Should we be surprised, then, that the freeing up of world financial
markets and world trade has spread an epidemic of violence? The dictators,
warlords, corporate partners, banks, law firms, and nations that thrive on
deadly business have known it all along. The profits extracted from teetering
states, masses of poor, and gaps in the law move as quickly and expertly
around the globe as the profits of a hot-money hedge fund. No business has
moved faster than arms makers to exploit the free flow of goods and money,
distributing weapons as widely as cotton. The ties that bind Nike to Third
World sneaker manufacturers bind Wall Street to war as well. Yet whereas the
sneaker business offers some hope to the dirt poor that they may eventually
make automobiles, the war business rewards only the players who can
provide cheap human lives. There is no market mechanism for resurrecting
the lives of the millions killed for profit. No incentives can reclaim half a billion
small weapons sold into the world or the suitcase nukes bought out of secret
bank accounts. World capitalism does not distribute insight into how many
deaths are too many or into how to save a world that profits in its own
destruction. Like the tide, it cares not the slightest on which shore we land.

Making A Killing 10