He fronted you $2,000 at 5% a day, takes cash in person in New York or London, and lends more up to $10,000 owed. His first text said no rush. Later ones say some rush.
ARRIVALS · EVERYONE19 PAGES
CHARACTERS
Eighteen people and one dog. The Rich Uncle, who lent you the money and would like it back. The five friends in the group chat, whose tips are mostly true, each about their own subject at their own rate. The eleven customs officers, one per city, each with a line, a tell, and, for most of them, one good they mind more than the rest. Lucy, Sydney's sniffer dog, who cannot be bluffed. And the stranger at the gate, who is never named and offers you a sealed case once a run. In the game, each of them is a name, a line, and a number. Here they get a little more.
THE RICH UNCLEONE
THE CREWFIVE FRIENDS
Knows prices. Right 70% of the time, rounds it up to always, and has never mentioned the other 30% again.
Knows drops. Sneakers and blind boxes only, right 85% of the time, all lowercase, no punctuation. When she says trust, trust.
Knows customs, or his cousin at Heathrow does. Right 60% of the time, and the true half and the wrong half arrive in the same paragraph.
Knows flights. Fuel strikes, delays, safe hops. Right 75% of the time, in as few words as it takes, with a mild hedge at the end.
Reads the news, or the headlines. Crackdowns, floods, spikes. Right 65% of the time, sends the link, never opens it.
CUSTOMS OFFICERSONE PER CITY
In a hurry, always. He would like you gone before his coffee goes cold, unless you have brought watches, in which case he has all morning.
Yeah. Fine. Go. Los Angeles is the easy airport, Park has no specialty, and she would like you to stop making eye contact.
I'm terribly sorry, this won't take a moment. It will. He wears white gloves, owns a magnifier, and can spot a crooked stitch on a rep sneaker from across the hall.
Anything to declare? He has asked it ten thousand times and listens to every answer. Dubai is strict, he is stricter, and he knows what a watch weighs.
These are not real. Four words, no question mark. Sato holds a shoe in each gloved hand and can tell which one is the rep before you can.
Mate. Is that gunpowder? Fifties, weathered, friendly, and never wrong about fireworks, because Lucy is sitting right there.
Open it. Quickly, please. Three more bags before lunch, and she goes for the zipper first. A fake bag takes her four seconds.
Hm. That is the whole interview. Silver bob, reading glasses, arms folded, a watch dangling by its strap, and nothing you own impresses her.
Welcome, welcome. What did you bring me? Mexico City's line is lax, Ramírez has no specialty, and he will talk for twenty minutes before he remembers the bag.
Form C, then form D, then we talk. Mumbai is strict, the paperwork is in triplicate, and fossils in the bag mean a form E.
Business or pleasure? Don't answer that. Grand Cayman has no market, so Bodden mostly waves through people carrying money.
BIOSECURITYONE BEAGLE
Sydney's sniffer dog. Sits down next to bags with gunpowder in them. No bluffing past Lucy.
THE GATEONE STRANGER
Never named, never seen clearly. Offers money to carry a sealed case to a named city by a named day. No questions. Do not open it.