CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE :
Franco was not complacent about the dangers of moving such a huge quantity of drugs as was stowed in the hull of his narrow craft. His younger brother, Georgio, was a little too relaxed and assumed that they were smarter than the intelligence services seeking out contraband drugs. “That’s how mistakes are made”, he thought. They were making good progress and had been cruising along the waterways for about thirteen hours. It would take about another couple of days to reach their eventual unloading point, after which he could, finally, relax.
His phone began to play the start of “Popeye the sailor man”, a ring-tone that he had felt, with a certain amount of amusement, was fitting to his role. “Yes?”
He listened, carefully, to the coded message and frowned in obvious
