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different. Almost all of them were on the lookout for any opportunity to earn extra money. Even the smallest amount could make a huge difference in their lives and the lives of their families. Everyone did it. The key was doing so at a level that didn’t draw the attention of government officials.
    Citizens in the oppressive communist state, though, were also wary of entrapment and Tang hadn’t built his network overnight. Favor by favor, envelope of cash by envelope of cash, he expanded and tended his relationships like a garden. Some of them had grown to be as strong as family ties. In fact, so many families relied on him that Tang had more than once smuggled his own money into the country when the notoriously bureaucratic CIA had been late disbursing his operating capital.
    Born in the United States of South Korean parents, Billy Tang was not only of Korean extraction, but he spoke the language fluently. The North Koreans he bankrolled had no idea he was American, much less anoperative for the CIA. They believed him to be a South Korean journalist aligned with a human rights organization in Seoul. He snuck into the DPRK, or so they thought, to chronicle its abuses and help expose them to the rest of the world. It was dangerous work, but for the risks they took, his North Korean assets were rewarded handsomely.
    Each time he visited, he brought not just money, but also medicine. Cholesterol lowering drugs, blood pressure medication, insulin, EpiPens, and even Viagra—he was seen as an angel of mercy and in some cases a literal lifesaver. The more Tang did for his network and their family members, the more loyal they grew. And the more loyal they grew, the greater the risks they were willing to undertake on his behalf. Some risks, though, were too great to ask even of his core people, so he had begun branching out.
    Unlike the rest of the world, where organized crime tried to infiltrate the government, in North Korea the government worked hard to infiltrate organized crime. Even at the top of the totalitarian food chain, life in the “utopia” of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea was so destitute that many high-level officials searched for ways to augment their own meager incomes and improve the standard of living for themselves and their families. To do that, they turned to organized crime.
    They trafficked internationally in methamphetamine, opium, heroin, counterfeit currencies, and knock-off luxury goods. The illicit trade was estimated to contribute upward of a billion dollars a year to North Korea’s coffers. But while much of the organized crime was geared toward distributing products into foreign markets, there was still a certain amount of organized crime conducted within the DPRK itself. Tang’s challenge hadn’t been infiltrating one of these groups, but rather finding one that wasn’t already shot through with government officials. The last thing he needed was to be directly doing business with members of the state’s armed forces, diplomatic corps, or intelligence service. If he ever could turn one of these people, it would be best to do it through a cutout.
    When Tang identified a low-level smuggler he wanted to recruit, he posed as a representative of the Jopok, South Korea’s mafia, and made the young man an enticing offer. In exchange for drugs, Tang offered himsomething very hard to acquire in North Korea—real American products, not knock-offs. The young man had jumped at the chance.
    The CIA purchased iPads, MacBooks, Xboxes, Jack Daniel’s, American cigarettes, and smartphones, among other coveted items. Tang made only limited quantities available to the smuggler. He didn’t want to turn him into such a big player that he drew the attention of the larger syndicates—only enough to make him reliant on Tang and hungry for more.
    The kid wasn’t some country bumpkin, but he wasn’t a criminal mastermind either. Not yet. That might come at some point in the future. For now, he had