Tech Giants: Starting from Bankrupt Companies

196: Chapter 196 The Dutch FogApril 1st, 9:00 AM Netherlands time, Rotterdam Port old warehouse district.

The sky was a typical Nordic gray-white, and the drizzle fell like fine needles. The harbor wind carried the smell of the sea and rust, blowing across rusted containers and abandoned gantry cranes.

Thomson Miller, 42, a senior investigator from the America Department of Commerce Bureau of Industry and Security (BIS), stood at the entrance of Warehouse No. 3, wearing a black trench coat. Behind him were four Netherlands police officers and two staff members from the America embassy in the Netherlands.

”Is this the place?” Thomson asked in English.

The Netherlands police officer nodded and handed him a document: ”The registered address of ’Netherlands Precision Equipment Company’ (NPE). But according to the records, this company went bankrupt and liquidated last November.”

Thomson took the document and looked through it.

The warehouse in the photo looked dilapidated, with the rolling door half-open, revealing the pitch-black space inside.

”Open it.”

The Netherlands police used a power saw to cut through the rusted chains, and the rolling door made a harsh, grating sound as it slowly rose.

The interior of the warehouse appeared before them.

Thomson was stunned.

It wasn’t the chaotic mess he had imagined, but... eerily tidy.

The 5,000-square-meter warehouse floor was cleaned spotlessly, without even the common traces of oil stains. In the corner, dozens of standard wooden pallets were neatly stacked, covered with dust cloths.

In the central area, eight desks were arranged in two rows, each with a desktop computer, a telephone, and a file rack on it. The chairs were pushed under the desks at consistent angles.

A calendar hung on the wall—September 2017. The dates were circled in red pen up to September 30th, and everything after that was blank.

”Doesn’t it look like... a stage set?” Thomson whispered to his colleague.

He walked to the nearest desk, put on gloves, and pulled open a drawer.

It was empty inside.

The second drawer: empty.

The third: a few used ballpoint pens, a stapler, and a box of paper clips.

”Too clean,” Thomson frowned. ”A company undergoing bankruptcy liquidation would at least have abandoned documents, coffee cups, or personal items. This place looks like it was meticulously cleaned.”

He began to check the filing cabinet.

The first cabinet was locked, and the police pried it open with tools.

Inside were neat file boxes, arranged by year: 2015, 2016, 2017.

Thomson pulled out the 2017 box and opened it.

The first document: Company Registration Certificate. NPE Company, registered in August 2015, legal representative Hans Van Derlin, registered capital of 1 million Euros.

The second: Business License.

The third: Tax Registration.

The fourth: 2016 Annual Audit Report—issued by Deloitte Netherlands, showing company revenue of 12 million Euros and a profit of 1.8 million Euros.

The fifth: 2017 First Half Financial Report—revenue skyrocketed to 320 million Euros, profit 48 million Euros. Note: Main business is ”refurbishment and resale of second-hand semiconductor equipment.”

”First half of 2017, 320 million Euros in revenue,” Thomson read aloud. ”For a small company with only twenty people, this number is too big.”

He continued flipping through.

Bank transaction record: June 15, 2017, a huge remittance of 8 billion Euros from ”Morning Star Trading Co., Ltd.” (Cayman Islands) was wired into the NPE account. Note: ”Equipment procurement advance payment.”

”8 billion Euros...” Thomson gasped. ”That’s equivalent to twenty times the company’s revenue over the past two years.”

Further on: Equipment procurement contract.

NPE Company sold a 16nm chip production line to ”Morning Star Trading” for a total price of 8 billion Euros (tax included). 6 billion as a down payment, and the remaining 2 billion to be paid after equipment delivery.

Contract attachment: Equipment list, detailing the models, serial numbers, and technical parameters of over 300 pieces of equipment, including lithography machines, etching machines, and ion implanters.

”These pieces of equipment...” Thomson pointed to the list, ”are all products from ASML, Applied Materials, and Lam Research. According to America export control laws, they are prohibited from being exported to China.”

The Netherlands police officer leaned in to look: ”But the contract shows that these pieces of equipment were ’second-hand equipment’ acquired by NPE Company from several bankrupt European enterprises and resold after refurbishment. According to European Union law, there are fewer restrictions on the export of second-hand equipment.”

”Refurbishment?” Thomson sneered. ”Calling the most advanced 16nm production line ’second-hand refurbished’? This excuse is too clumsy.”

He continued searching.

He found the equipment customs clearance records: December 3, 2017, the production line was packed into 120 containers and shipped from Rotterdam Port to Huizhou Port via the COSCO Group freighter ”COSCO Pacific.”

The customs declaration documents were complete: Certificate of Origin (Netherlands), Technology Export License (issued by the Netherlands Ministry of Economic Affairs), tax payment certificates...

”How could the Netherlands government approve such a license?” Thomson questioned.

The embassy staff member said helplessly: ”We’ve checked. The documents provided by NPE Company during the application showed that these pieces of equipment were ’old models manufactured in 2014,’ with technical specifications ’two generations behind the latest technology.’ According to European Union standards, they could indeed be exported.”

”But what about the actual performance?”

”There are no actual test records. NPE Company provided the original manufacturer’s technical specifications—but that was the 2014 version. After the equipment arrived in China, Xinghuo Chip performed upgrades and modifications.”

Thomson slammed his fist against the filing cabinet: ”So they found a loophole in the law! Using customs documents for old models, and then upgrading them themselves after shipping them over!”

”But legally,” the Netherlands police officer said cautiously, ”as long as the information at the time of customs declaration is true, subsequent modifications are the buyer’s business. We cannot prove that NPE Company was aware of it.”

Thomson felt a sense of helplessness.

He had been doing export control investigations for fifteen years and had seen all kinds of evasion methods. But this time, the opponent was too professional—every step was legal, or at least appeared legal on the surface.

He walked to the back of the warehouse and lifted the dust cloth off a wooden pallet.

Underneath was... empty.

The second, the third... all empty.

”The equipment was shipped away long ago,” Thomson muttered. ”This place is just a front.”

Just as he was about to give up, a Netherlands police officer made a discovery in the corner.

”Mr. Thomson, here!”

A floorboard in the corner was loose, and after prying it open, a metal box was hidden inside.

Opening it, inside was a stack of photos.

Most were photos of the equipment: a brand-new production line being debugged in the factory, with engineers working.

But one was very special: a group photo.

The background was the container area of Rotterdam Port, with two people shaking hands. On the left was a white male in his sixties, bald, wearing glasses—this should be Hans Van Derlin. On the right was an Asian male, around thirty, wearing a casual suit.

But the Asian male’s face... had been deliberately blurred.

”The photo has been processed.” Thomson picked up the photo and held it up to the light. ”Professional-grade Photoshop, impossible to restore.”

He flipped to the back and saw a line of handwritten Dutch: ”A memento with a partner, 2017.6.10.”

”A partner...” Thomson stared at the blurred face, ”Is it Su Chen?”

But he couldn’t confirm it.

In all the public photos he could find, Su Chen was always dressed in formal attire with a polished hairstyle. The person in this photo was dressed casually, and their temperament was also different.

”Maybe it’s a body double,” Thomson speculated. ”Su Chen wouldn’t risk coming to the Netherlands in person.”

After finishing the inspection of the warehouse, the group arrived at the registered office address of NPE Company—an office building in the city center of Amsterdam.

17th floor, Room 1708.

They knocked on the door, but no one answered.

The property manager opened the door with a spare key.

Inside was... a shared office space.

Twenty workstations, rented out to different freelancers and small companies. One of the workstations had a sign for ”NPE Company,” but on the desk, there was only a laptop and a chair.

”They only rented one workstation?” Thomson couldn’t believe it.

”Yes.” The property manager checked the records, ”Monthly rent of 300 Euros, three-year lease, August 2015 to August 2018. Paid on time every month, never in arrears.”

Thomson sat at that workstation and opened the laptop—it had long been formatted, and the hard drive was empty.

He looked around the shared office: there were young people drinking coffee and chatting, designers drawing, and programmers typing code.

NPE Company, the enterprise that had completed a transaction worth billions of Euros, had operated right here, using a single workstation, for three years.

”A ghost company.” Thomson reported to the other end of the phone, ”Sir, this company is like a ghost. All transaction records are complete, tax records are intact, and even employee social security was paid until the day before bankruptcy. But it’s just too perfect—perfect like a script.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone: ”Keep investigating. I want to know where the money went.”