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And yet these same people are going to be the ones driving your vehicles, handling cash exchanges and, in all likelihood, talking to the police. But who the hell else are you going to trust? It is not like you can put an advert in the paper saying “Driver needed to take ten kilos of cocaine from Cadiz to Dover. Must have clean current license, good time keeping and willing to take the fall and keep their mouths shut if busted by the police”

So you end up being introduced to friends of friends. By which I mean criminal friends of criminal friends. Your smart sensible mate has a guy he knows who is not too stupid. And he in turn has a friend he knows who is not a total flake. Just the same as the way a Marbella escort introduces you to an escort in Ibiza and then to one in London, and so on. And they know someone who is pretty much clean from their heroin habit most of the time and is always looking to make a few easy quid.

And you end up putting your half a milion euros of product in the hands of someone that you would not trust to walk your dog regularly. Who falls asleep in a disabled parking bay at the motorway services with the gear on the back seat and who, when the plods knock on his window asking him why he is parked there panics and folds up like a cheap umbrella. And he knows the guy who knows the guy who knows the guy who knows you. And you are either busted or targeted. Because a dick head being paid eight hundred a day was too lazy to park two spaces further away from the toilets.

Of course in fiction, everyone is a cold and hard eyed professional who knows the score and tells the authorities to go fuck themselves. Yeah, no. Not really. In reality, at the ground level, the biggest and most profesional criminal organisation in the world are represented by people who could not get a job at McDonalds, and who earn about the same hourly rate as that if you average things out.

You know, morons.

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