Kelong Kings: Confessions of the world's most prolific match-fixer

by Wilson Raj Perumal

  Mega and I checked into the Cumulus Hotel in downtown Rovaniemi and then met with two of the Zambian RoPS players that Mega had contacted on the internet: Musonda and White. Musonda had golden hair and, when an African has golden hair, you'll never lose sight of him. When we met the pair, the first thing I asked them was how much they were being paid.

  "One thousand euro per month", they replied.

  The Zambians actually received a gross salary of around two thousand euro but lived in apartments provided by RoPS that were located right above the Bingo hall managed by the club. In addition to housing, the players also received food vouchers so, after the expenses for accommodation and food were deducted from their salary, they were left with a net worth of only one thousand euro per month. In my view, they were modern day slaves just like the Sporting Afrique players in Singapore had been a few years before them: playing professional football in the Finnish top division and being paid the salary of a domestic worker; it was totally absurd.

  "Why earn a thousand when you can make ten thousand euro per match?" I incited.

  The RoPS players were no novices; they were like prostitutes. Mega, who was also in contact with Zeddy, was told that the Zambian footballers were fixing matches with Russian and Eastern European match-fixers long before our arrival. I later found out from Dan that Dino had also done business with them a month prior to our visit in Rovaniemi. RoPS had fixed so many matches during that year's season that they had ended up being relegated from the Finnish first division, Veikkausliiga, to the second division, Ykkonen. Despite their previous fixing experiences, the players were a bunch of young, stubborn, mother-fuckers. They couldn't get the job done and that's why most of the other match-fixers had left them to fare on their own. Mega and I considered that we could step in, take on the gamble and grab the opportunity to build a relationship with the players.

  "Since you are relegated", I told Musonda and White, "it looks like there is not going to be any betting tomorrow".

  I fished 20 thousand US dollars from my bag and handed the money to them.

  "Here are ten thousand dollars for each of you", I said. "We'll catch up during the next season".

  You see, if I approach you and ask, "Do you want to fix?" and you say, "No, I don't like to fix", then I respect your principles and your integrity.

  I don't force anyone to throw a match. I don't coerce or put a gun to your head and say, "You must do this". I just offer you an alternative.

  "Would you like to make more money than you are earning right now?"

  If you answer "yes", you pawn your integrity and you come along with me. After saving Musonda's and White's contacts, Mega and I returned to Singapore.

  Later that month, I traveled to Abuja, Nigeria, for the 2009 FIFA Under-17 World Cup. By then I had traveled extensively around much of the world but Nigeria really made my heart skip a beat. When I walked out of the airport I saw flocks of illegal money changers and taxi drivers eyeing me like vultures eye an agonizing prey. I had gone there just to watch the matches and, while I was in town, met with Prince, my agent on the ground. Prince had arranged a meeting between myself and a Nigeria FF official at Abuja's Hilton Hotel. The World Cup in South Africa was at the door and, with just one World Cup qualifying match to go, Nigeria was lagging two points behind Tunisia. The Nigerians were set to play their last game away in Nairobi against Kenya, while the Tunisian Eagles of Carthage were traveling to Maputo to face Mozambique. Had they won, the Tunisians would have automatically qualified for the final rounds of the World Cup. At that point, Nigeria was virtually out of contention.

  "We need to make it to the World Cup", pleaded the Nigerian official. "Can you help us out?"

  "I can help you win the match against Kenya", I explained. "But, looking at the standings, even if you win in Nairobi, you'll still be eliminated if the Tunisians beat Mozambique. A victory won't make a difference and you'll be out".

  I didn't really care who made it to South Africa, whether it be Tunisia or Nigeria; the only factor pushing me in the Nigerian camp was our long-standing business relationship. I tried to figure out a potential solution.

  "Look here", I proposed, "this is the deal. I can send a letter to the Mozambique FA president promising them a 100 thousand dollar sponsorship deal if they fight Tunisia to a loss or a draw. There is no guarantee that this ploy will produce the result that we want because I have no power over Tunisia's match, except for the letter and the promise. But you'll get your three points against Kenya; that, I can guarantee. I have some players in the Kenyan team".

  The Nigerian official was happy with my proposal.

  "I'll arrange a meeting tomorrow with my boss", he promised.

  On the following day, I met with the official's superior.

  "I'm the CEO of a Singaporean company called Football4U", I introduced myself. "I have worked with Nigeria in the past. We had your team invited and flown to the Inter Continental Cup in Malaysia right before the Beijing Olympics in 2008. Your federation is familiar with me: your people know me and I know them. Now listen, you need to win against Kenya and I am ready to make it happen. It's as good as done. Then I'll also take care of Tunisia in Mozambique. You do want to go to the World Cup, don't you?"

  "Sure we do", said the Nigeria FF executive. "But are you positive that you can do this?"

  He could not bring himself to believe me. Nigerians all have the same problem; they don't trust you unless you flaunt your wealth under their nose.

  "Listen", I said, "I can make it happen, don't worry. You send a couple of guys to Mozambique to watch the Tunisia match while you and I, we sit together in Nairobi. Watch me execute both".

  I couldn't really promise both results, I could only dangle the carrot.

  "Now we come to my part of the deal", I continued. "I don't want anything from you but, if Nigeria qualifies for the World Cup, you let my company take care of your training package. FIFA is going to give you one million dollars to prepare for South Africa. I will arrange your training camp and three World Cup warm-up friendly matches for you; I will choose which teams you'll face and who the match officials will be. Is that OK with you?"

  When a team qualifies for the final rounds of the World Cup, FIFA gives their FA nine million dollars. One million goes to their warm-up training and then, as the World Cup begins, they get the remaining eight million. So why not accept my deal? I'm the only one who can get you there in the first place. Had I spoken to the Tunisians, I am sure that they too would have agreed.

  "OK, no problem", the Nigerian executive was pleased. "You can have the training camp and the three matches. Just make sure that we make it to South Africa".

  I knew that I could easily find three corrupt teams to play warm-up friendly matches against Nigeria prior to the World Cup. I was also sure that, there being no other games played around the world at that time, any warm-up friendly leading to the World Cup would be up for gambling with huge betting volumes. With three matches in hand, I could have easily made up to five million Singapore dollars.

  "The training camp will cost half a million dollars", I concluded, "but I will budget 700 thousand and make sure 200 thousand finds its way back into your pockets".

  I was trying to make sure that we had a deal.

  "All right", he said. "Let's do it".

  The ball was rolling.

  After my meeting with the Nigeria FF, I headed to the casino inside Abuja's Hilton Hotel. There were quite a few Nigerian Muslims sitting around the roulette table; I recognized them from the knitted hats and the loose vests that covered them from head to toe. I stepped up to the roulette to take a peek and maybe place a few dollars but they weren't making room for me. One of them turned to look at me with scorn.

  "This table is for big boys only", he said arrogantly.

  The sucker probably mistook me for an ordinary penniless joker from India. I decided to flex some muscle. I plunged my hand in my side pocket and pulled out two stacks of banknotes and threw them on the
table under the man's nose.

  "These are 20 thousand dollars", I said to the croupier. "Can I have them changed please".

  The men around the table swung their heads around in shock as my detractor slid sideways to make room for me.

  "You're welcome at this table", he said in a low voice, "you can stay. No problem".

  November 14th, 2009, the day of the final African World Cup qualifiers, was a very busy day. Toumani, my contact in the CAF Referee's Committee, had designated one of my referees from Zimbabwe to officiate Ivory Coast's last qualifying game against Guinea. Barely a week prior to the Ivory Coast game, I had sent the same ref to Bahrain for a friendly match between the home side and Togo, which Bahrain had won 5-1. Toumani was very accommodating and would place my referees in official fixtures for a meager ten thousand US dollars.

  While my referee officiated the Ivory Coast match, I was in Nairobi for the game between Nigeria and Kenya where I was joined by Rajendra Prasad and a new acquaintance, Eric. A common friend had introduced me to Eric while in Singapore and Eric had said that he wanted to see me in action. He claimed that he wanted to become a match-fixer and share business with me in the future. Eric and I met the Kenyan national team players outside their training camp. By then I had already had some run-ins with the Kenyan team and three of their players were on my payroll. Two were going to be in the starting eleven in the match against Nigeria, while the third was expected to sit on the bench.

  "Boys", I told them, "help Nigeria win. Try to get this done for me".

  The three players nodded. The handicap was one-ball so I told the Kenyan footballers that we needed Nigeria to win by two clear goals.

  The game kicked off but the Nigerians were playing like a bunch of pussies. After 15 minutes, they were already down by one goal. Then there was a blatant penalty against them which could have increased Kenya's lead but the referee looked the other way and waved to play on. Nigeria eventually won the match as expected, but not by a two goal difference; the final result was 3-2.

  Kenya had let Nigeria win but, if Tunisia were to defeat Mozambique, they would have overtaken the Nigerians in the run to the World Cup. As promised, Football4U had sent a letter to the Mozambique FA president offering the bonus sponsorship deal.

  "If your team holds Tunisia to a draw or defeats them", the letter read, "you'll get 100 thousand dollars".

  I think that the Mozambique FA president is still holding on to that letter; if you go to him, he'll show it to you as he did with Prince when they met. Believe it or not, Mozambique fought its way to victory, defeating Tunisia 1-0; my plan had worked and I was the unsung hero of Nigeria's qualification to the final rounds of the 2010 FIFA World Cup in South Africa.

  Ferrying Nigeria and Honduras to the World Cup was a personal achievement.

  "Fuck", I considered, "I got two teams to qualify for the World Cup but I cannot tell anyone".

  I felt that I had accomplished something important and that I finally sat on the very summit of match-fixing; a true Kelong King. Even though my line of business is illegal, I am a perfectionist when it comes to my job. I always try to make sure, to the best of my abilities, that everything is executed flawlessly. I had flown as high as I could fly, unless I were to fix the World Cup itself, of course. But I knew that neither Nigeria nor Honduras would have followed me down that path. Football players love their sport too much and, when they are competing at the highest levels, will play 100 percent and be prepared to die on the field; they'll choose the sport over money. I mean, they love money, and they'll be torn between the devil and the deep blue sea but, once they step onto the pitch, they won't be thinking about anything else but football.

  CHAPTER XII

  1-1

  Three months after Ah Kang and his runner had run off with my 720 thousand dollars the opportunity to get even finally arose.

  "You fuck with me, I'll fuck with you", it's my way of doing things.

  In December 2009 I used Mega and a Chinese friend of his, a taxi driver called Ah Lim, to get close to Ah Kang. Ah Lim called Ah Kang pretending to be a big match-fixing boss from a Chinese-Singaporean syndicate.

  "I got your telephone number from someone", he said to Ah Kang, "I know that you're a betting house. We have some matches coming up and we want to know if we can do them with you".

  Ah Kang's curiosity was tickled and he wanted to know more; after some subtle convincing, he finally bit the bait.

  "We are fixing some matches in German football", Ah Lim proposed, "and we want to bet on those fixtures. We'll put the money on the table as a guarantee and you'll do the betting for us".

  The match that we came up with was not actually a fixed one; I didn't care about its outcome, I just wanted to fuck Ah Kang up and make him lose some money.

  "OK", Ah Kang said. "You bring the deposit, place it on the table in plain view and we'll do the betting for you".

  I booked two side-by-side rooms in Singapore's five-star Sheraton hotel. In one room sat Mega and another friend who looks somewhat Caucasian; he was supposed to be our boss and Mega his runner. I figured that my friend's mixed-Eurasian complexion would raise less suspicion. He and Mega were carrying one million Singapore dollars of mine in cash inside a suitcase. As they entered the hotel room where the meeting was supposed to take place, I sat waiting with five boys in the neighboring suite. We were ready to ambush Ah Kang's men and retrieve my money at my command in the event that the match ended in a loss.

  Mega and his 'boss' were soon joined in the room by Ah Kang's runners with whom they exchanged the appropriate ceremonial pleasantries. Despite the fact that our 'boss' kept eating chocolates from the minibar, not exactly a boss-like bearing, he came off as a credible figure and Ah Kang's boys were not alarmed. Mega placed my one million dollars on the table and spelled out his request to the Chinese betting house: 700 thousand dollars on Over 2.5. The match was a Bundesliga fixture: Hamburger SV against some other German team the name of which I cannot remember. When you play total goals there is no need to recollect the names of the teams; only the final score matters. As Mega and the others sat around the table with the cash, Ah Kang was in mainland China using his betting facility to place the wagers on our behalf. The deal with Ah Kang was that he'd pay us on the following day in case of a win. The guarantor was going to be one of his runners: if Ah Kang fucked us up, we'd go after him; had we lost, Ah Kang's runner was supposed to collect my money and disappear with it.

  Ah Kang completed our bets ten minutes into the match, which was a little too lengthy for his standard; in the German league, under normal circumstances, 700 thousand dollars could be placed within five minutes of kick off. We sat waiting in our separate hotel rooms for the goals to be scored but none came; in the 85th minute the score was still nil-nil. Then, in the 88th minute, it was show-time: my five men and I walked out onto the corridor and up to the door of the nearby room where Mega and the others were. In front of the door stood the Chinese runner who had stolen my 400 thousand dollars from Rajendra Prasad. He smiled at me, thinking that I was one of Mega's boss's men. I just brushed him aside and barged inside the room with my five boys behind me. To my surprise, Choo, Dan's trusted runner and friend, was sitting right across the table from Mega. I gazed at him and Choo stared back. It was as if he had seen a ghost; he turned death-pale.

  "Wilson", his eyes shifted from me to my five boys, "I have nothing to do with this, OK? I have nothing to do with your 400 thousand. I don't want any trouble".

  Choo knew all about the incident.

  "I have nothing to do with this", he kept repeating like a broken record. "Ah Kang promised me three thousand dollars to serve as an interpreter. That's the only reason why I'm here".

  "Choo", I reassured him, "I have no quarrel with you, don't worry".

  I put my hand in my pocket, fished out a stack of banknotes and counted three thousand.

  "Take the three thousand dollars that Ah Kang promised you", I said as I gave him the banknotes. "It's you
r salary; now call Ah Kang and give me the telephone".

  Had we won, we would have collected our money and continued to play the same game with Ah Kang until we lost. Unfortunately, it happened on the very first match. I snatched the phone from Choo's hand as it began ringing then, when Ah Kang picked up, I spoke to him in Hokkien.

  "Do you remember me?" I asked. "You stole 720 thousand dollars from me, now I fuck you back for 700 thousand. The score is 1-1, if you're good enough, you'll make it 2-1. Bye bye".

  I hung up the telephone, returned it to a trembling Choo, picked up the suitcase with my money and left the building followed by my boys, Mega and his pretend boss. In spite of the lost bet, we had lured Ah Kang into betting and losing 700 thousand dollars of his own funds. I had promised Mega ten percent of the profits in case of a win, a handsome reward which he never cashed in. Instead, I granted him 20 thousand dollars worth of credit on one of my on-line betting accounts, which Mega lost within a matter of days as usual.

  Around that same time, I fixed the CECAFA Cup, Africa's oldest football tournament, in Kenya. Once again, I did not need to travel to Nairobi; Danny was there running the show for me. Zimbabwe was participating in the cup and I had instructed Danny to let them play freely during their first three matches, as there was to be no live betting on them. Then, when Zimbabwe advanced to the quarter-finals against Rwanda, we stepped in. Danny spoke to the Zimbabwean players and they were forthcoming, giving us the 4-1 loss against the Rwandans that we wanted. The Eritrean national team was also competing in the tournament and, at one point, their entire delegation just took off and disappeared from the hotel where they were lodged. I scolded Danny for not approaching them earlier.