It's primo quality Afghan black m'boy
So a few days ago my man turns up all distressed. I ask him if he's seen the big Russian dude. he skips that one saying "This is worse. I'm losing my house."
"I thought you owned the house."
"I did too but the banks say I still owe eighteen grand on it and I haven't paid them anything so they're foreclosing on me unless I find the money quick."
"What are you going to do?"
"Find the money."
"Like you're just going to find eighteen grand just like that?"
"There are ways." he says, "Not strictly legal, but there are ways."
Yesterday he came to see me. he's wearing his usual camo clothes and toting a rucksack. "Problem nearly solved." he says "I've just gotta shift this little lot." and he opens the rucks sack.
Inside were several slabs of what looked like liquorice, each with a circular gold sticker. Around the outside was something like "Afghanistan Kabul." and in the centre "top quality"
"What is it?" I ask. As if I didn't already know.
"It's primo quality Afghan black m'boy. You wont get better than this around here."
"How much is it worth?"
"This little lot will fetch me around eighteen grand."
"Yes I'm selling it all on as a job lot. I don't want to be involved with it anymore than I have to. I've got a deal going down in an hour so I'd better get going."
"Well..... errr... good luck with that."
"It'll be sweet when i march into the bank and slam eighteen grand on the counter and say 'take that ya bastards'."
"You could make a load of money doing this."
"This is a one off. Once a year to keep me ticking over. No more. Keep your head down, nose clean and don't get noticed. I don't sell the stuff. I'll leave that to the others. They can get caught."
Later in the day he walks past my gaff he doesn't stop except to look through the window, smile and give me the thumbs up. I guess the deal was done. His house is safe.