📸

COMING TO PARADISE

today he just slipped this first bag inside a second plastic bag and threw a handful of dirty clothes on top. If anyone stopped him, he'd say he was going to the laundry.

He jumped into his rented Suzuki Jimny, picked up his contact, who'd set up the deal, and sped to the five-star Inter-Continental Hotel on the beachfront. Dark thoughts started to creep across his mind. He snuck a look at the Indonesian next to him, eyeing him suspiciously. He could be working a sting with the buyer, or the buyer could be an undercover cop. He felt intensely nervous. This game was new to him, but Rafael knew he was breaking the rules – trusting an Indonesian guy he barely knew and switching drugs for cash directly with a stranger.

But he had to trust his instincts. It had felt okay when the Indonesian insisted he came to meet the Australian buyer. He was potentially a goldmine, interested in future direct deliveries to Sydney – where the price per kilo could shoot to more than $120,000. The stakes were high, but this was a risk worth taking. The winnings could be a bottomless piggy-bank.

They drove into the hotel, valet-parked the red Jimny, and then walked alongside happy, suntanned tourists into the capaciously grand lobby, carrying the flimsy plastic supermarket bag of blow.

I go with my Bintang shopping bag, in jeans, T-shirt and flip-flops, to the room and shake hands with Australian guy. He says, 'Did you bring the coke?' I say, 'Yes.' He says, 'Where?' I say, 'In the bag.' Then he laughs. 'Are you crazy, man, why don't you put in better bag, a backpack or something?' I say, 'Ah, man, this nobody is gonna check – dirty clothes.'

– Rafael

📸