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AGAINST THE ODDS

Rafael ignored him. ‘I don’t have anything to be afraid of. I’m clean, I don’t use drugs. Take my blood,’ he said, sticking his arm out. ‘I have kids to take care of. You can’t bring guns into someone’s house with kids. That’s wrong.’

The cops were now fuming, and searching with more vigour. Two of them went into his en-suite. Rafael tensed. Inside his electric toothbrush was a gram of coke. The faintest trace would take him down. But the two quickly focused on Anna’s vast array of expensive perfumes, creams and potions, enveloping the room in fragrant mist as they stood twisting off lids, spraying, sniffing and fingering the products. Rafael’s boring toothbrush went untouched.

Other cops were searching Rafael and Anna’s designer wardrobes, feeling inside the Prada shoes, the pockets of his Quiksilver board shorts and his Armani shirts.

The boss told Rafael to open the safe, but Rafael asked him to first clear the room. ‘Only you, me and my Balinese friend open the safety deposit. I don’t want everybody to see what I have inside. This is my private stuff.’ The boss agreed, then stared wide-eyed at glistening riches – Rafael’s €25,000 Rolex, his 1-kilo gold necklace, more gold jewellery, and about €3000 cash – as well as photos, passports and documents, but nothing incriminating.

‘Sorry, my friend, you’ve come to the wrong guy,’ Rafael said, closing his safe. ‘I told you, I’m a family guy. No offence, but you are so stupid ... Marco sent you to the wrong guy. He named me to clear the real drug dealer. Now you try to fuck the good guy and the bad guy is laughing. Why do you even believe this guy?’

‘We know exactly what you do,’ the cop retorted. ‘We’ve been watching you for the last two years.’

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