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SNOWING IN BALI

only a few minor hiccups, like a protracted argument with the taxi driver against strapping the half-million-dollar surfboard bag onto the car roof, the Spanish inquisition for the entire trip, and at the end a battle to get rid of the driver, who was hanging around for a return fare. Finally, Rafael stepped into the phone box and dialled.

On the first ring, the buyer answered, wasting no time with pleasantries. ‘I’m here already,’ were his first words.

Rafael looked out into the darkening night. ‘Where?’ Car headlights blinked twice across the street. ‘Fuck,’ Rafael muttered, hanging up. This guy was good.

They drove to a nearby house, where the deal was quickly done. The guy tested the coke, then took Rafael to a bedroom for the cash. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the money. It was a beautiful payday. A white sheet spread on top of the bed was covered in bunches of $10,000, the brand spanking new Australian notes giving the room an acrid smell. There were more than 60 bunches, a lot more than if it had been in the agreed US currency. Rafael didn’t argue, although he had specifically asked for US dollars because the Aussie dollar was low and there’d be too much cash to carry.

‘You want to count it?’ the surfer asked.

‘Later, thanks.’ Rafael didn’t even look; he knew where the guy’s house was now if he’d cheated him. He just wanted to leave. So he casually stretched across the bed and grabbed a corner of the sheet, then one by one took the other corners, tying them up together in a parachute-style bag. The buyer stood uneasily watching. It was a hell of a lot of cash and seeing this young guy blithely wrapping it up in a sheet rattled him. If Rafael got into trouble in Sydney and someone discovered his sheet-load of cash, it could expose the surfer too. He advised Rafael to take half tonight, and half tomorrow.

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