Snowing in Bali by Kathryn Bonella Page B

pays $2000 per month for the guy just to stay inside and not let the other cops in. Chino is the big boss who works directly with the police.
    â€“ Andre
    Chino was slightly short, slightly plump, with a round happy face and swollen lips. With his easy laugh, intelligence and quiet nature, he was the sort of person most people liked. To him, what he was doing to make his millions was illegal, but not sinister. It was business. He did it professionally, selling the best quality drugs to voracious markets. He worked hard, making himself and others filthy rich, especially anyone who could help slip drugs past the Australian borders.
    Just being a conduit to a pliable customs officer at any Austra­lian sea or air border could turn someone into an overnight millionaire. Corrupt customs officials quickly became obscenely rich. Chino used strategies to ensure they kept their jobs by sporadically ‘throwing a load’. Once Chino had a border contact, it was vital to keep him in that position and ensure he didn’t incur suspicion for never busting a load. So Chino would send a container especially to bust. To make it look even more legit and successful, he’d sometimes pay someone to do a bit of jail time. Chino could then keep using his guy to clear his drugs. This was a trick used by big drug traffickers across the globe.
    For Rafael, working with Chino made things quick, easy and safe. He could just sell the bulk of his coke to someone he liked and trusted; they were friends now, but it was the business that bonded them. The deal was that any coke Rafael got, he’d sell to Chino so that he could try to have some control over Bali’s cocaine market, to augment his booming ecstasy business, renowned for its world-class pills.
    My pills are the best in the world.
    â€“ Chino
    The deal suited Rafael, despite riling the other Indonesian buyers, who were being overshadowed by Chino.
    It was hard because they knew each other. They got jealous. It was a buyers’ war. They say, ‘Why are you selling to him and not to me?’
    But Chino wanted to control, he had big eyes. He says, ‘You are going to work with me; you cannot sell to Nanang or anybody, only to me. Come to me with everything you bring. Anything that comes from your friends, I want to buy. Just bring it to me and I will give you commission. You don’t need to take any risk.’
    And I say, ‘Okay.’
    â€“ Rafael
    Chino knew about most of the big loads of coke coming to Bali, with his men instructed to keep an ear to the ground. If he got news it was suddenly snowing and one of Rafael’s guys had smuggled it in, he’d get his right-hand man, Bejo, a tall, skinny Indonesian, to go to Rafael’s house, collect him and bring him to M3 to explain.
    Bejo is a danger guy, fucking danger guy.
    Why?
    He was in the jail here, Kerobokan, two or three times. He’s from Laskar Bali; now he has the biggest security company here, for banks, and this guy always has guns. He’s a scary guy.
    And he still works for Laskar?
    Yeah.
    â€“ Andre
    Sometimes I was in my house, doing nothing, and then Bejo comes. ‘Rafael, Chino wants to talk to you.’ ‘About what?’ ‘I don’t know.’ I say, ‘Okay, let’s go.’ Then we go and Chino says, ‘Do you know that some coke has come in the island?’ ‘No.’ ‘Well, my people know, somebody is selling coke here. Find out who this guy is. I hear it is Brazilian.’ Sometimes it was French, or Italians, but Chino’s soldiers knew when the shit started selling in the street. He says, ‘Rafael, find this motherfucker, let’s fuck him.’ I say, ‘We don’t need to do anything, they are going to fuck themselves.’ It’s funny, because sometimes people come, they don’t even speak English, they don’t have any connections, they just hear it’s good to bring coke to Bali, and