Couldn’t blame Beef for struggling with the term. Man had good English, but not that good. The rest of it was understood well and more‘n well. Newspaper taken over especially after the teh, the page unfolded. GOLD, gleaming ingots pretty as a picture displayed. Text reported 20 of them; a fair stash. In Beef's own time back in ‘96 it had been a level dozen items, diamonds and cut smooth, presumably. Newly outta the cage, old pal Ali had called in to tell about the job. They saw the local buyers—a doctor, lawyer and professor—in their office. OK, we get it down. Money first; you pick up later. Beef knew how it went. You gave them the product and then waited around with hand out: Please sir, you promised. First and only time up in KL, the neighbouring capital, Petronas Towers still rising up in the clouds. Overnight train arriving at the old Tanjong Pagar Station bright and early, Customs fighting back their yawns. Article said they watched for goose-leg ambling, stumbles and little hitches. Grimace of any kind of course you were cooked, suda, straight back to Changi. In the paper they said the runners exercised in preparation, stretching, squatting, limbering. Food, water, coffee no-nos; and fasting highly recommended. Ali provided cover, some wayang, shadow puppet. Separate compartments, getting off together, clowning & bumbling on the platform. Beef slipped through without a scratch. Fifteen big ones, minus the two for Ali. The chap in the paper reported 500 Rupees for every kilogram brought over to India, where the yellow glitter fetched appreciably more. Big guy here however hadn't got the half of it. Wrapped in plastic, he guessed, indicating around his big fat flabby belly. Blimey Beef, we gotta put you back to school. Duh. Showed the digit, man inched closer to comprehension. Oohweee!...OOOhhh. Pulling distressed, wounded faces now. (The recollection had not dimmed so much.) But. But… In the photo the load had looked an impossible wallop true enough, gold bars like in the safes in movies. They said 800gm was max a body could bear, no more squeezed no matter how you turned it. Beef had got that part himself without the full import. Noooo. Not interested in going back to that lurk, not in sober years. Beef’s current "product" was doing nicely enough, thanks all the same. Case in the paper concerned a flight back to Chennai. Scanners usually picked it up at airports now, but look-out was always useful. REC-TUM, Beef my man.
NB. Published by Aletheia Literary Quarterly, #3 Spring, 2021
https://www.austlit.edu.au/austlit/page/24614452
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