THURSDAY'S ORCHID by Robert Mitchell Page A

But I can tell you right here and now that you’ll be hard pressed to convince me to get too close to the shipment. But, as you say, let’s leave that for later and worry about how we’re going to get this show on the road.”
    He smiled, satisfied. I could see that he was relieved to have me with him. He refilled both glasses and we raised them in another toast. Much more of the heavy Greek liqueur and I would be fast asleep in no time at all.
    The waterfall playe d gentle music on the rocks below. The breeze stirred the bamboo clustered at the pool’s edge, rustling the dry leaves. It was an atmosphere of peace and calm, and yet here we were, discussing the biggest shipment of marijuana that I had ever heard of.
    Nick glanced up at the sky. “So how are we going to do it?” he said, sipping his drink, rolling the thick liquid around in his mouth. “Just how are we going to conceal fifty tonnes of grass so that it will pass the scrutiny of the customs department?”
    I had been thinking about it for the last ten minutes or so, but hadn’t come up with anything constructive. George and I had handled crates of munitions, labeled as Engineering Supplies , without any problems. There had been the odd shipload of trucks; but nobody really wants to hijack that sort of shipment, so we hadn’t been concerned about the rest of the bad lads finding out about it. We weren’t too worried about a crew talking, as long as they didn’t talk to the authorities. It had been easy to land on a quiet beach in the middle of the night and then sneak off again.
    But you can’t do that with fifty tonnes of grass. You don’t charter a vessel for that sort of cargo. The word would be out before you could finish loading. We couldn’t persuade a legitimate captain to put his boat ashore on some remote coast in the middle of the night. This had to go by the normal sea route, in the normal course of trade.
    “Nick, old mate. As I said before, I really don’t know. I’ll have to think on it for a day or so.” He grunted, but said nothing.
    It could take a few weeks to puzzle this one out, but I wasn’t going to let him know that. He was anxious enough as it was. So much for his big-risk big-profit boast. He was worried; there was no doubt about that.
    “Anyway,” I asked. “How much time do we have? Is the deal open-ended? Do we have dea dlines, or what?” Given enough time, research, and cash, just about anything could be achieved.
    “They haven’t set any specific dates, but they want delivery in about three months. It should give us plenty of time to work with .”
    That’s what he thought.
    “Nick, do you know how long it takes a normal cargo ship to sail from Adelaide to Singapore?” I did a quick calculation in my head. “About three weeks.” He sat up. I thought it would surprise him. “Yes, you had better see about getting an extension on the delivery date. It’s probably going to take you two months just to get the grass together.”
    He started to scratch his chin. It was clear that he hadn’t thought it through at all. I should have hit him for that extra five percent. I was going to be worth it.
    “Hmm,” he replied. “You could be right. I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime I’ll start giving instructions to my people to buy in as much grass as they can locally without starting a run on the market. Once the growers realise there’s a big buy going on, the prices will start to rise like hell.”
    This was where Nick was at his vest. He knew how to deal with the growers and the middle-men. They were in awe of him and respected his word, and once they had committed a crop to him there would be no backing out.
    “Can you get it all together in that period of time?” I asked. “Two months?”
    He thought for a few seconds before replying. “I could if I knew we had the scheme all worked out. It would make things a whole lot easier . But I don’t want to fully commit myself to the New Guinea people