It was just good luck that we had come to know Sven. We had first heard from him over two years ago when we were still in Mexico. By the time we hit Belize, only three months after leaving home, he had invited us to stay at his house when we got to Sweden. Great, we thought, this would be the perfect opportunity to stage a pilgrimage. An adventure twenty years in the making.
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With our foam mattress cover folded out of the way which we bought at a double mattress sale, I laid out the last of our contraband on the bed. I leaned back, wiped the sweat from my forehead, and inspected my work. I carefully rolled the mattress cover out over the bed, concealing the bounty in a foam sandwich. I smoothed the yak hair blanket over the whole mess and crawled down into Nacho’s living quarters where Sheena had just finished stuffing the rest of our contraband under the couch. Using the power drill I ran two screws through the bottom of the seat and tested it to be sure it couldn’t be opened. I got out, picked up the ugly chicken wire cage that I had built on the bank of the canal and slid it into place behind the front seats.
“Let’s just hope they don’t find any of this,” I said. Sheena nodded, nervously wringing her hands. A rower sliced through the dark water of the canal, barely taking notice of us inspecting our work. Scraps of chicken wire and wood littered the ground around the van.
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