Eating Smoke: One Man's Descent into Drug Psychosis in Hong Kong's Triad Heartland

Eating Smoke: One Man's Descent into Drug Psychosis in Hong Kong's Triad Heartland

Chris Thrall

Language: English

Pages: 420

ISBN: 9881900298

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Chris Thrall left the Marines to find fortune in Hong Kong, but ended up homeless and addicted to crystal meth. He began working for the 14K, a notorious Hong Kong crime syndicate, as a doorman in the Wan Chai nightclub district. Dealing with psychosis, conspiracy and the 'Foreign Triad' -- a secretive expat clique that works with the Chinese gangs -- he had to survive in the world's most unforgiving city, addicted to the world's most dangerous drug ...

"This year's best book." -- Time Out Hong Kong

"Thrall uses such verve, enthusiasm and faultless comic timing that it is hard not to be swept along." -- South China Morning Post

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darkness and – ‘Umph!’ – landing on some god-awful mess below. Something broke my fall, but it was far from pleasant. I felt hair and cold, hardened flesh and smelt a stench – ‘Urrrh!’ – that would have been unbearable in anything less than a crisis. It wasn’t just rancid, dead and decomposing ... it was human. My mind flashed back to a corpse I’d stumbled upon on a riverbank in Cairo. The next thing I knew the Maglite was on, and because this was Hong Kong, where situations can

overcooked it. Found myself dangling by my arms and embarrassment.’ ‘Failed?’ ‘Well, I thought I had. We had this huge black corporal in charge of us, a member of the Special Forces on sabbatical due to injury or something. He shouts, “Get him the safety rope!” But I thought, “Fuck that!” I might have been hanging like a squid, but the scramble net was only a few metres away—’ ‘Only a few metres?’ ‘Big climbing frame, remember?’ ‘Ah, of course!’ ‘So I started

lucrative entrepôt now famously known as Hong Kong. ‘The bissniss quite quiet at the moment,’ Vance continued, with veritable Asian diplomacy – which meant things were going to rat shit, to use the vernacular – ‘but how abou’ we go an’ eat?’ Eating is Hong Kong’s second major institution – great if you love to use chopsticks and sample gourmet delights. Dining with Vance was always a treat, the indigenous menu making a mockery of the takeaways back home. When presented with a

here, their barrows atop with counterfeit pop, whenever a police patrol approached. I edged my way along, slicing unafraid through the superstition and danger lurking in the pitch-black dank. In my mind, I was a renegade sail-close-to-the-wind doorman, a real maverick with a tragic secret history involving a woman, an unfortunate incident with a whoopee cushion and lots of people I’d had to kill. I was representative of a nightclub overseen by evil colonial masters, ones possessing

to chop up a line of ice on the rim of the steel washbasin. On its three-and-a-half-hour journey to Taiping, the choppy waters of the channel buffeted the old tub incessantly. The frothy white crests, picked off the waves by the wind, slammed into the bulkhead – a reminder that although the other passengers knew nothing of my sordid act, Mother Nature damn well did and she wasn’t about to let me forget. It was hard to believe I was wending my way towards an upcoming meet with the

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