Tom peered through the Buddha's eye, and said elated, "It's Mick!"
Brian's voice was ominous. "They might have sent him ahead as a decoy."
Tom threw open the door. All stared in silence at Mick, blue overcoat, two suitcases. "Not a hitch. I tipped the cabbie a pound."
Frishta rose cheering, "Straight Mick! What a score!" Tom clapped him on the back as he walked in, then locked the door behind him. Everyone clustered around him, except, except Brian, who remained on the couch. Mick beamed.
"What's it like?"
"You're sure you weren't tailed?"
"I'm going to eat an ounce before the trial."
"Let's see it."
Mick took off his coat and gave it to Aleck. "Man, that's a heavier than average coat, isn't it?" He addressed everyone. "The shit is great. It turned out to be only eight kilos, but that's still a good price."
Brian said, "Christ, what happened?"
"Fuck you, Brian! I risk two sets of customs and you bitch abut a lousy ki! My score said two settle for the eight or leave them. Man, you would have liked souvenirs instead?"
Phil urged, "Open it up, Mick. Let's eat."
Tom said, "We better leave most of it packed up, to be safe."
Mick grinned. "We'll just take off enough to smoke tonight." He knelt and opened the large suitcase, tossing clothes on the floor. He took from his pocket a small screwdriver, and removed four screws from the bottom of the suitcase. He told Tom and Sitvar, "Hold it upside down, with me under it." Mick tapped inside the suitcase while the two held it, all spectators rapt. Suddenly Mick held on both hands a tray sized rectangle of plywood on which rested an equally large slab like beige sandstone wrapped in clear plastic.