📸

COMING TO PARADISE

bungalow packing 5 kilos of cocaine, first into plastic bags, then stitching it into the lining of the surfboard bag. It was exacting work. The faintest trace of blow on the bag could excite sniffer dogs; a mere sprinkling of dust brushing from their fingertips to the bag could spell disaster. Rafael had also heard that the potent ether smell could leach through plastic after 24 hours, so it was a race to pack and fly the same day. Tonight the flight was at 11 pm. Only after the bag was tightly sealed was the horse allowed anywhere near it.

He was a 23-year-old Hawaiian guy, ostensibly the perfect horse - well travelled with an American passport and a strong physique that gave him a surfer look, ensuring carrying surfboards wouldn’t look incongruous and create suspicion. A day earlier, Jerome had taken him shopping in Kuta to buy his clothes: Quiksilver T-shirt, jeans and skate shoes. Outfitting a horse was usual practice. They needed to look the part and it also ensured there was no trace of drugs on their clothes, given most horses were also users. When the packing was done, Rafael drove to the guy’s hotel, picked him up and took him to Bali’s Ngurah Rai International Airport to ensure his precious cargo safely hit the skies.

This was the Hawaiian’s first big run. As he and Rafael walked from the car park he started feeling spooked. I don’t think I can do it, he said, looking at the doors ahead. There’s an X-ray machine. Rafael tried to placate him, No problem, my friend, this bag is X-ray-proof. It’s easy. But he was now walking very slowly. Suddenly, he dropped the bag. I can’t do it, I’m sorry, I can’t go. They were 5 metres from the doors. Rafael took a deep breath. His mind was racing. He was confident the bag would sail through customs, but the Hawaiian’s blatant fear was a classic red flag; he was sweating, almost crying, with fear in

📸