{"product_id":"american-kingpinisbn-9781591848142","title":"American Kingpin","description":"\u003cb\u003eNEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER. The unbelievable true story of the man who built a billion-dollar online drug empire from his bedroom—and almost got away with it  \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e In 2011, a twenty-six-year-old libertarian programmer named Ross Ulbricht launched the ultimate free market: the Silk Road, a clandestine Web site hosted on the Dark Web where anyone could trade anything—drugs, hacking software, forged passports, counterfeit cash, poisons—free of the government’s watchful eye. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e It wasn’t long before the media got wind of the new Web site where anyone—not just teenagers and weed dealers but terrorists and black hat hackers—could buy and sell contraband detection-free. Spurred by a public outcry, the federal government launched an epic two-year manhunt for the site’s elusive proprietor, with no leads, no witnesses, and no clear jurisdiction. All the investigators knew was that whoever was running the site called himself the Dread Pirate Roberts. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The Silk Road quickly ballooned into $1.2 billion enterprise, and Ross embraced his new role as kingpin. He enlisted a loyal crew of allies in high and low places, all as addicted to the danger and thrill of running an illegal marketplace as their customers were to the heroin they sold. Through his network he got wind of the target on his back and took drastic steps to protect himself—including ordering a hit on a former employee. As Ross made plans to disappear forever, the Feds raced against the clock to catch a man they weren’t sure even existed, searching for a needle in the haystack of the global Internet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Drawing on exclusive access to key players and two billion digital words and images Ross left behind, \u003ci\u003eVanity Fair\u003c\/i\u003e correspondent and \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author Nick Bilton offers a tale filled with twists and turns, lucky breaks and unbelievable close calls. It’s a story of the boy next door’s ambition gone criminal, spurred on by the clash between the new world of libertarian-leaning, anonymous, decentralized Web advocates and the old world of government control, order, and the rule of law. Filled with unforgettable characters and capped by an astonishing climax, \u003ci\u003eAmerican Kingpin\u003c\/i\u003e might be dismissed as too outrageous for fiction. But it’s all too real.“An astonishingly well-researched narrative… Bilton's storytelling bears not so much as a trace of fat; the book he's conjured is so sharp and bright that it can be whipped through in the airport lounge before the flight takes off.\"\u003cbr\u003e—The Globe and Mail\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Unbelievably riveting.\"\u003cbr\u003e—CASEY NEISTAT\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I dare you not to read this book in one sitting. Masterfully reported and written, Bilton’s book drops you hard into the dark heart of the most famous Internet crime to date. A first-rate thrill.” \u003cbr\u003e—JOSHUA COOPER RAMO, author of The Seventh Sense \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Nick Bilton has issued a fantastic modern true-crime thriller. The book moves at a stunning pace while packed full of exquisite reporting and detail. It delivers a vivid pic­ture of what happens when genius, ambition, and depravity collide, as well as a study on the complex interplay between good and evil.” \u003cbr\u003e—ASHLEE VANCE, author of Elon Musk \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Engrossing, addictive, suspenseful, riveting—this book hooked me on page one and I could not put it down. American Kingpin is the best thing I’ve read in ages. I can’t recommend it highly enough.” \u003cbr\u003e—DAN LYONS, author of Disrupted \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “In American Kingpin, Nick Bilton again proves why he’s one of tech’s best storytellers with a stunningly researched and very scary portrait of the creator of a marketplace gone mad, and the oddly uncoordinated officers who took him down.” \u003cbr\u003e —STEVEN LEVY, author of Hackers and In the Plex \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “You’ll never forget Bilton’s portrait of the brilliant and brazen Ross Ulbricht, even after you sacrifice sleep in a sprint to the final pages and to see justice served.” \u003cbr\u003e —BRAD STONE, author of The Everything Store and The Upstarts \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A rollicking, deftly reported tale of the Dark Web. I couldn’t put it down.” \u003cbr\u003e —CLIVE THOMPSON, author of Smarter Than You Think \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Bilton’s investigation of the Silk Road is dramatic and, at times, nearly unbelievable. It puts your favorite thriller novels to shame.” \u003cbr\u003e —STEVEN PRESSFIELD, author of Gates of Fire \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Nick Bilton is the only writer who could tell this suspenseful story. American Kingpin is engrossing at every turn, right up to its pulse-racing ending.” \u003cbr\u003e —ADAM LASHINSKY, author of Wild Ride \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “American Kingpin is both a staggering feat of investigative journalism and a triumph of edge-of-your-seat storytelling. This is what true-crime writing should be.” \u003cbr\u003e —BRYAN BURROUGH, author of Days of Rage\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A fast-paced, readable true-crime tale that frames the likely future of the underground economy.\" \u003cbr\u003e—Kirkus Reviews\u003cb\u003eNick Bilton\u003c\/b\u003e is a special correspondent for \u003ci\u003eVanity Fair,\u003c\/i\u003e where he writes about technology, business, and culture, and a contributor at CNBC. He was a columnist for \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e for almost a decade. His most recent book, \u003ci\u003eHatching Twitter,\u003c\/i\u003e was a \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestseller. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife, son, and dog, Pixel.Chapter 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Pink Pill\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Pink.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A tiny pink pill with an etching of a squirrel on either side.      Jared Der-Yeghiayan couldn't take his eyes off it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He stood in a windowless mail room, the Department of Homeland      Security badge hanging from his neck illuminated by pulsing      halogen lights above. Every thirty seconds, the sound of airplanes      rumbled through the air outside. Jared looked like an adolescent      with his oversize clothes, buzz cut, and guileless hazel eyes.      \"We've started to get a couple of them a week,\" his colleague      Mike, a burly Customs and Border Protection officer, said as he      handed Jared the envelope that the pill had arrived in.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The envelope was white and square, with a single perforated stamp      affixed to the top right corner. heir offen, read the inside flap.      Below those two words was the English translation, open here. The      recipient's name, typed in black, read david. The package was on      its way to a house on West Newport Avenue in Chicago.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was exactly what Jared had been waiting for since June.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The plane carrying the envelope, KLM flight 611, had landed at      Chicago O'Hare International Airport a few hours earlier after a      four-thousand-mile journey from the Netherlands. As weary      passengers stood up and stretched their arms and legs, baggage      handlers twenty feet below them unloaded cargo from the belly of      the Boeing 747. Suitcases of all shapes and sizes were ushered in      one direction; forty or so blue buckets filled with international      mail were sent in another.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Those blue tubs-nicknamed \"scrubs\" by airport employees-were      driven across the tarmac to a prodigious mail storage and sorting      facility fifteen minutes away. Their contents-letters to loved      ones, business documents, and that white square envelope      containing the peculiar pink pill-would pass through that      building, past customs, and into the vast logistical arteries of      the United States Postal Service. If everything went according to      plan, as it did most of the time, that small envelope of drugs,      and many like it, would just slip by unnoticed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But not today. Not on October 5, 2011.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e By late afternoon, Mike Weinthaler, a Customs and Border      Protection officer, had begun his daily ritual of clocking in for      work, pouring an atrocious cup of coffee, and popping open the      blue scrubs to look for anything out of the ordinary: a package      with a small bulge; return addresses that looked fake; the sound      of plastic wrap inside a paper envelope; anything fishy at all.      There was nothing scientific about it. There were no high-tech      scanners or swabs testing for residue. After a decade in which      e-mail had largely outmoded physical mail, the postal service's      budgets had been decimated. Fancy technology was a rare treat      allocated to the investigation of large packages. And Chicago's      mail-sniffing dogs-Shadow and Rogue-came through only a couple of      times a month. Instead, whoever was hunting through the scrubs      simply reached a hand inside and followed their instincts.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Thirty minutes into his rummaging routine, the white square      envelope caught Mike's eye.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He held it up to the lights overhead. The address on the front had      been typed, not written by hand. That was generally a telltale      sign for customs agents that something was amiss. As Mike knew,      addresses are usually typed only for business mail, not personal.      The package also had a slight bump, which was suspicious,      considering it came from the Netherlands. Mike grabbed an evidence      folder and a 6051S seizure form that would allow him to legally      open the envelope. Placing a knife in its belly, he gutted it like      a fish, dumping out a plastic baggie with a tiny pink pill of      ecstasy inside.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Mike had been working in the customs unit for two years and was      fully aware that under normal circumstances no one in the federal      government would give a flying fuck about one lousy pill. There      was, as every government employee in Chicago knew, an unspoken      rule that drug agents didn't take on cases that involved fewer      than a thousand pills. The U.S. Attorney's Office would scoff at      such an investigation. There were bigger busts to pursue.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But Mike had been given clear instructions by someone who was      waiting for a pill just like this: Homeland Security agent Jared      Der-Yeghiayan.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A few months prior, Mike had come across a similar piece of      illicit mail on its way to Minneapolis. He had picked up the phone      and called the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement's Homeland      Security Investigations office at the airport, half expecting that      he would be laughed at or hung up on, as usual. But the HSI agent      who answered was surprisingly receptive. At the time, Jared had      been on the job for only two months and frankly didn't know any      better. \"I can't fly to Minneapolis to talk to a guy about one      single pill,\" Jared said. \"So call me if you get something in my      area, in Chicago. Then I can go over there and do a      knock-and-talk.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Four months later, when Mike found a pill destined for Chicago,      Jared rushed over to see it. \"Why do you want this?\" Mike asked      Jared. \"All the other agents say no; people have been saying no to      meth and heroin for years. And yet you want this one little pill?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jared knew very well that this could be nothing. Maybe an idiot      kid in the Netherlands was sending a few friends some MDMA. But he      also wondered why one single pill had been sent on such a long      journey and how the people who mailed such small packages of drugs      knew the recipients they were sending them to. Something about it      felt peculiar. \"There may be something else to this,\" Jared told      Mike as he took the envelope. He would need it to show his      \"babysitter.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Every newbie agent in HSI was assigned one-a training      officer-during their first year. A more seasoned officer who knew      the drill, made sure you didn't get into too much trouble, and      often made you feel like a total piece of shit. Every morning      Jared had to call his chaperone and tell him what he was working      on that day. The only thing that made it different from preschool      was that you got to carry a gun.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Unsurprisingly, Jared's training officer saw no urgency to a      single pill, and it was a week before he even consented to      accompany his younger colleague on the \"knock-and-talk\"-to knock      on the door of the person who was supposed to receive the pill      and, hopefully, talk with them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e That day, as Jared's government-issued Crown Victoria zigzagged      through the North Side of Chicago, the small Rubik's Cube that      hung from his key chain swung back and forth in the opposite      direction. His car radio was dialed into sports: the Cubs and      White Sox had been eliminated from contention, but the Bears were      preparing for an in-division contest against the Lions. Amid the      crackle of the radio, he turned onto West Newport Avenue, a long      row of two-story limestone buildings split into a dyad of top- and      bottom-floor apartments. Jared knew this working-class      neighborhood well. He'd followed the baseball games at nearby      Wrigley Field when he was a kid. But now this was Hipsterville,      full of fancy coffee shops, chic restaurants, and, as Jared was      now learning, people who had drugs mailed to their houses from the      Netherlands.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He was fully aware how ridiculous he might look in the eyes of his      grizzled training officer. They were in one of the city's safest      precincts to question someone about a single pill of ecstasy. But      Jared didn't care what his supervisor thought; he had a hunch that      this was bigger than one little pill. He just didn't know how      big-yet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He found the address and pulled over, his chaperone close behind.      They wandered up the steps and Jared tapped on the glass door of      apartment number 1. This was the easy part, knocking. Getting      someone to talk would be a whole different challenge. The      recipient of the envelope could easily deny that the package was      his. Then it was game over.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e After twenty seconds the door lock clicked open and a young,      skinny man dressed in jeans and a T-shirt peered outside. Jared      flashed his badge, introduced himself as an HSI agent, and asked      if David, the man whose name was typed on the white envelope, was      home.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"He's at work right now,\" the young man replied, opening the door      further. \"But I'm his roommate.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Can we come inside?\" Jared asked. \"We'd just like to ask you a      few questions.\" The roommate obliged, stepping to the side as they      walked toward the kitchen. As Jared took a seat he pulled out a      pen and notepad and asked, \"Does your roommate get a lot of      packages in the mail?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah, from time to time.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Well,\" Jared said as he glanced at his training officer, who sat      silently in the corner with his arms crossed, \"we found this      package that was addressed to him and it had some drugs inside.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah, I know about that,\" the roommate replied nonchalantly.      Jared was taken aback by how casually the young man admitted to      receiving drugs in the mail, but he continued with the questions,      asking where they got these drugs from.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"From a Web site.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What's the Web site?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"The Silk Road,\" the roommate said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jared stared back, confused. The Silk Road? He had never heard of      it before. In fact, Jared had never heard of any Web site where      you could buy drugs online, and he wondered if he was just being a      clueless newbie, or if this was how you bought drugs in      Hipsterville these days.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What's the Silk Road?\" Jared asked, trying not to sound too      oblivious but sounding completely oblivious.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And with the velocity of those descending airliners at O'Hare, the      skinny roommate began a fast-paced explanation of the Silk Road      Web site. \"You can buy any drug imaginable on the site,\" he said,      some of which he had tried with his roommate-including marijuana,      meth, and the little pink ecstasy pills that had been arriving,      week after week, on KLM flight 611. As Jared scribbled in his      notepad, the roommate continued to talk at a swift clip. You paid      for the drugs with this online digital currency called Bitcoin,      and you shopped using an anonymous Web browser called Tor. Anyone      could go onto the Silk Road Web site, select from the hundreds of      different kinds of drugs they offered and pay for them, and a few      days later the United States Postal Service would drop them into      your mailbox. Then you sniffed, inhaled, swallowed, drank, or      injected whatever came your way. \"It's like Amazon.com,\" the      roommate said, \"but for drugs.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jared was amazed and slightly skeptical that this virtual      marketplace existed in the darkest recesses of the Web. It will be      shut down within a week, he thought. After a few more questions,      he thanked the roommate for his time and left with his colleague,      who hadn't said a word.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Have you ever heard of this Silk Road?\" Jared asked his training      officer as they walked back to their respective cruisers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh yeah,\" he replied dispassionately. \"Everyone's heard of Silk      Road. There must be hundreds of open cases on it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jared, somewhat embarrassed at having admitted he knew nothing      about it, wasn't deterred. \"I'm going to look into it anyway and      see what I can find out,\" he said. The older man shrugged and      drove off.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e An hour later Jared bounded into his windowless office, where he      waited for what seemed an eternity for his archaic Dell government      computer to load up. He began searching the Department of Homeland      Security database for open investigations on the Silk Road. But to      his surprise, there were no results. He tried other key words and      variations on the spelling of the site. Nothing. What about a      different input box? Still nothing. He was confused. There were      not \"hundreds of open cases\" on the Silk Road, as his training      officer had claimed. There were none.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jared thought for a moment and then decided to go to the next-best      technology that any seasoned government official uses to search      for something important: Google. The first few results were      historical Web sites referencing the ancient trade route between      China and the Mediterranean. But halfway down the page he saw a      link to an article from early June of that year on Gawker, a news      and gossip blog, proclaiming that the Silk Road was \"the      underground website where you can buy any drug imaginable.\" The      blog post showed screenshots of a Web page with a green camel logo      in the corner. It also displayed pictures of a cornucopia of      drugs, 340 \"items\" in all, including Afghan hash, Sour 13 weed,      LSD, ecstasy, eight-balls of cocaine, and black tar heroin.      Sellers were located all over the world; buyers too. You've got to      be fucking kidding me, Jared thought. It's this easy to buy drugs      online? He then spent the entire rest of the day, and most of the      evening, reading anything he could about the Silk Road.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Over the weekend, as he drove between antique fairs (his weekly      ritual) near Chicago with his wife and young son, he was almost      catatonically consumed with the drug Web site. Jared realized that      if anyone could buy drugs on the Silk Road, anyone would: from      middle-aged yuppies who lived on the North Side of Chicago to      young kids growing up in the heartland. And if drugs were being      sold on the site now, why not other contraband next? Maybe it      would be guns, bombs, or poisons. Maybe, he imagined, terrorists      could use it to create another 9\/11. As he looked at his sleeping      son in the rearview mirror, these thoughts petrified him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But where do you even start on the Internet, in a world of      complete anonymity?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Finally, as the weekend came to a close, Jared started to      formulate an idea for how he could approach the case. He knew it      would be laborious and tedious, but there was a chance that it      could also eventually lead him to the creator of the Silk Road Web      site.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But finding the drugs and the drug dealers, and even the founder      of the Silk Road, would be easy compared with the challenge of      persuading his supervisor to let him work this case based on a      single tiny pink pill. Even if he could convince his boss, Jared      would also have to cajole the U.S. Attorney's Office into      supporting him in this pursuit. And there wasn't a U.S. attorney      in all of America who would take on a case that involved one      measly pill of anything. Exacerbating all of this was the fact      that thirty-year-old Jared was as green as they came. And no one      ever-ever!-took a newbie seriously.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He would need a way to convince them all that this was bigger than      a single pink pill.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e By Monday morning he had come up with a scheme that he hoped his      boss would not be able to ignore. He took a deep breath, walked      into his supervisor's office, and sat down. \"You got a minute?\" he      said as he threw the white envelope on the desk. \"I have something      important I need to show you.\"","brand":"Portfolio","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303233638629,"sku":"NP9781591848142","price":28.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781591848141_cb5d5e46-482e-468a-847f-5d4e0c89e7b6.jpg?v=1730753550","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/american-kingpinisbn-9781591848142","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}