In late 2017 I finally found De Meyer on Facebook, and sent him a message asking if he would talk about his work for Le Roux.

“Must be an error as i know nobody with this name,” he re- sponded. “You must have the wrong guy.”

I pointed out that he was Facebook friends with people who had worked for Le Roux, and that he’d posted photos of himself in Subic Bay, in the Philippines, all of which seemed like an enor- mous coincidence. He at first maintained that he’d only once been a bartender in Subic. When I laid out more of what I knew, he fi- nally relented.

“Who exactly did u speak to?” he said. “If u know everything Sir about me . . . well then you know everything. It’s a can of worms best kept close.”

I told him that I couldn’t tell him who I’d talked to. “Some people are afraid you’ll kill them,” I wrote. “I’m not saying you would, just that’s what they are afraid of.”

“Sorry sir but I cannot say anymore,” he replied. “Please be careful in your enquiries, and no I won’t kill you. it’s free and well ment from the Hart advise.”

After a few more exchanges, though, he couldn’t seem to resist. Felix Klaussen, he told me, was the one who snitched on everyone. He “played everything,” De Meyer wrote, and “got leroux done.”

Then he reiterated that he couldn’t tell me anything. “The only thing I ask is not to use stories that are [not] 100 confirmed,” he wrote. “Don’t listen to druggies and alcoholics with bar stories. They know fuck all. Want the story? Interview Hunter and the boys. If you can reach them. The rest knows fuck all.”

“That’s all sir I already said too much. I’m in danger just by talking to you,” he concluded. “Btw I never killed for le roux or hunter. That’s why I’m not in prison.”

The email arrived in my inbox on a Thursday morning at the end of March. The correspondent was an obvious pseudonym, “Dirk VanHo.” Subject line: “Interesting info on PCL.” It appeared at