Almost instantly, Macau's violence ended. So, too, in 2002 did Mr Ho's monopoly. Two of the new licences went to the kings of Nevada, Mr Sheldon Adelson and Mr Steve Wynn.
When, in 2004, Mr Adelson opened the Sands Macao, there was a stampede to get in. The casino, the first to cater to mass-market Chinese gamblers, paid for itself in eight months. Mr Adelson later added the 3,000-room Venetian Macao hotel and convention centre, the world's largest casino and one of the few places where you can take an indoor gondola ride. Mr Wynn added a higher-end, more discreet casino that proved equally popular.
Macau derives four-fifths of its revenue from gambling (compared with less than half in Las Vegas), the bulk of it from high-rollers. Officially, Chinese citizens are allowed to exchange about US $ 50,000 a year into hard currency. But many high-rollers spend much more than that. They can do so thanks to the so-called junket operators who provide gamblers' hard-currency stake in return for yuan-denominated collateral. If the gambler wins, he keeps his hard-currency earnings. If he loses, he pays back in yuan.
Because such loans are not exactly official and unenforceable in China's court system, they are collected the old-fashioned way. Analysts covering Macau insist that the bulk of money wagered - estimated by CLSA at US $ 750 billion last year - is legitimate gambling.
But the opportunity for money-laundering is also obvious. Of the debts settled by junket operators, CLSA writes reassuringly: "Note that the numbers of reported assaults or deaths associated with debt collection are surprisingly low." |
