I'm a Master in India

"The passport business isn't just about taking a few sheets of paper and printing them from a template.

You need the sharp eye of a detective and the steady, confident hand skills of a surgeon."

Hela handed him a Canadian passport; the gold-embossed pattern on the cover was brand new.

Ron glanced at it twice and found nothing unusual.

"This is a light box."

She pointed to the equipment on the long table that emitted a dazzling white light.

There were several opaque white glass panels on the top of the box, with strong light shining from inside.

"In some underground factories, there are specialized 'light box masters'.

They examine real passports page by page, looking for watermarks and hidden patterns.

This allows them to replicate those effects where needed."

Hela took the Canadian passport from his hand, bent down, and ducked inside the light box.

"Come and look," she called out.

Ron lowered himself, leaning over her shoulder to watch her work.

A complex set of wavy lines extended downwards from the top of the page, over the photo, all the way to the bottom of that page.

Hela found another passport nearby; that one had nothing on it except for the photo.

She used a fine-tip pen to draw the exact same wavy lines along the edge of the replaced photo.

Her technique was so exquisite that Ron was amazed.

After finishing, Hela used the light box again to superimpose the two patterns, checking for discrepancies.

"My fingers are steadier than a surgeon's," her tone carried a hint of self-satisfaction.

"Hela, I never knew you had this skill," Ron didn't even dare to breathe loudly, afraid of disturbing her slender fingers.

"Every foreigner who can live in Mumbai for a long time must have their unique talents."

"You're absolutely right!"

Ron praised softly, indicating his agreement.

Dejean was a marijuana broker, intimately familiar with Mumbai's gang forces.

Viraj was an excellent equestrian, and every one of his performances drew loud cheers from the audience.

Mary and Lena were even more mysterious; Ron had no doubt that the two of them could easily take down seven or eight Indian policemen.

Hela also dropped a bombshell on him today; what kind of geniuses were these people?

"Doing this kind of work, you can't be distracted, not even blink."

She sat there, bent over, examining carefully.

Ron was pressed close behind her, and their thin shirts conveyed each other's warmth.

The temperature inside the light box was high, and fine beads of sweat emerged from the fine hairs on Hela's neck.

Ron's nose brushed against her ear, and his hot breath mercilessly hit her earlobe, like a torrential storm.

Hela's breathing became erratic, her hand was no longer steady, and her eyes blinked slightly.

Ron mischievously stuck out his tongue and lightly licked her fair ear.

Hiss, Hela jolted, and the fine-tip pen in her hand fell onto the passport.

"Hey, you made all my work from last night useless," her lips parted in a half-smile.

Her amber eyes under the light box were alluring pearls, glistening and watery.

Ron captured her lips, launching his own attack.

This time he was not the one being ambushed; hunter and prey, the roles had reversed.

Hela responded to him, holding nothing back.

The strong light made the sweat on her neck look like sparkling stars, and her skin was like a vast expanse of night sky.

Ron pressed his lips against that night sky, licking the stars into his mouth.

He moved closer to her body, ready to go further, but Hela put her hand on his chest.

"Not now," she pointed to the light box and the workbench, which contained all her hard work.

"Let's continue talking about the passport; what you're seeing now is just the tip of the iceberg."

Hela took the opportunity to stand up.

Ron had to release his arms around her.

He was aroused and walking was very inconvenient.

"Besides the light, another key aspect of passports is engraving."

She led him to another long table.

On a shelf at the back of the table, there were many rows of rubber stamps.

"Top engravers can create any stamp, no matter how intricate the design.

Visa stamps, entry/exit stamps, special permit stamps—whatever the client needs, the engraver can do it.

See this new contour cutting machine?

It's used to replicate stamps.

This machine cost me a lot of money; it had to be imported all the way from Germany.

To get this machine through customs and into this studio without any trouble, I asked someone from the German Embassy to go to the palace twice, costing double the money in total."

"Was that the time you came back from Goa? Johnny said you went to the palace with someone from the German Embassy," Ron asked.

"Yes, that was the time," Hela raised an eyebrow, seeming a bit surprised.

"You do all this by yourself?"

Ron looked curiously at the miniature contour cutting machine.

"I'm good at lighting and tracing; engraving is something I'm learning."

Hela found a blank rubber template and demonstrated how to engrave a new stamp on the spot.

Following an enlarged photo of the original—an entry/exit stamp from Athens Airport—she traced it onto the template, using a scalpel and a jeweler's file to carve out the new stamp.

She dipped it in ink and made a test print, finding a few small flaws.

After fixing them, she used wet and dry sandpaper to smooth off one corner of the stamp.

This deliberately created imperfection made the printed impression on the paper look natural and authentic.

Ron thought of the 'aging' done in antique markets; Hela's goal was the same as theirs.

The finished stamps would be placed on the shelf, waiting to be used when new passports were made.

Hela took Ron on a tour of the entire studio.

Besides the light box and the contour cutting machine, there were also computers, copiers, and stocks of special parchment and ink.

It was no exaggeration to say that this was a small workshop specializing in counterfeiting various passports and visas.

"Making a clean US passport is very troublesome.

You have to get the passport book first, then the stamps.

Every step must be perfect, without the slightest error."

According to Hela's explanation, the passports she handled usually fell into two categories.

One type was used, genuine passports obtained from elsewhere, and the other was blank, unused passports.

Used passports were stolen by pickpockets, lost by tourists, or bought from foreign tourist addicts desperate for money.

Blank passports were very rare and could only be obtained from officials at consulates, embassies, and immigration offices of various countries like Germany, France, and the UK.

Even though Hela had connections with embassy officials, she still found the high price of blank passports difficult to afford.

Usually, as soon as this kind of item appeared on the market, no matter how high the price, it would be bought immediately.

The blank passports Hela came into contact with were all commissioned by other powers.

It was said that Hadh Khan had a fireproof safe filled with genuine blank passports from various countries.

With enough patience, professional skill, and resources, Hela could alter almost everything on a passport to meet the conditions of a new user.

She replaced photos in passports, using an inconspicuous tool like a crochet hook to mimic the raised lines or serrated marks of heavy stamps.

Sometimes, she would carefully remove the stitching of a passport and replace it with clean pages from another passport.

Dates, details, and stamps were all altered or erased using chemical solvents.

When filling in new data, she would choose ink of the correct shade from a comprehensive catalog of printing inks.

Some alterations could deceive expert eyes and were never exposed during routine checks.

"Just making the passport isn't enough by far.

You have to make sure it's clean enough so you don't get arrested immediately upon arriving in the issuing country."

"Is that what you mentioned before, needing to use airlines and customs to screen passports?"

Ron recalled their previous collaboration on a passport deal.

"Exactly.

The connections and trouble involved in that are no less than creating a new blank passport."

Ron was amazed by the intricacy and complexity of this business.

Like most people, he used to think that forging a passport was just a matter of changing the photo, like in the movies.

But after visiting Hela's studio, he realized how brainless the movies were.

"How about it, isn't it eye-opening?" Hela asked with a smile.

"It's really criminal!"

Ron nodded.

The Criminal Code did not deceive me; the paths to getting rich are all in there.

Forging a usable passport starts at several thousand dollars.

Passports from popular Western countries are even tens of thousands, with ridiculously high profits.

"Have your Brazilian friend prepare the photos and information of the corrupt official.

Once I've processed the passport book here, I'll hand it over to Hadh Khan's people for 'bleaching'."

"You work for Hadh Khan?"

Ron was greatly surprised.

"In the underground business of South Mumbai, who can operate independently of him?" Hela retorted.

"Okay, I just... felt it was sudden."

Ron should have thought of it earlier.

He had been to Hadh Khan's house and met Gani, who was in charge of the passport business there.

This line of work would inevitably involve many people cooperating to open up all the channels from the airport to customs.

Hela was responsible for forging the passports, and Gani's subordinates would naturally take over a series of subsequent operations like engraving, verification, screening, and 'bleaching'.

She couldn't handle everything alone, especially as a foreign woman.

Without the protection of local forces, Hela couldn't do these things, and her safety would even be a problem.

This also explained why Johnny knew Hela; they both worked for Hadh Khan.

Ron also thought of himself; many of his businesses were also in cooperation with Hadh Khan.

Anand had said that everyone in Mumbai knew Hadh Khan, and that statement was not an exaggeration.

"To live very comfortably in Mumbai, you can't do it without money," Hela spoke that golden rule.

"I agree."

Ron wholeheartedly agreed with this point.

Even fresh water was a scarce resource here; without money, let alone showering, the tap wouldn't even reach your home.

"I studied fine art in England and even copied pound notes.

I didn't expect to be able to apply this skill in Mumbai; it's very interesting."

She curled her lips, smiling mischievously.

"This business is more complicated than I thought.

If you need any help later, call me."

"Okay."

Her eyes became gentle, no longer so calm.

"I have to talk to Luca.

It's incredibly difficult for you to get a passport done; he must pay more!"

"How much more?"

She pressed her lips together, trying to suppress a smile.

"At least 50,000 US dollars.

Oh, by the way, how much do you get from one deal?"

Ron had to shut up; he had become the prey again.

He had to fully focus, not letting that pleasure slip away.

He wrapped his arms around her, carrying her into the outer bedroom, into the room filled with her scent.

The world trembled, and their souls ascended.