I’m a worryer. I worry. The best thing in the world, an item I’ve longed for my entire life, an object with unparalleled value, could appear in front of me…and my immediate reaction would be to ask, “What’s the catch?” Most people would be hysterically happy to find a big bag full of cash. Not me. I worried.
There’s no such thing as a free lunch. Well, the amount of money there would pay for thousands and thousands of lunches – three courses, with lashings of champagne and caviar. Don’t even like caviar. Not sure if I’ve ever even had it. But when in Rome, do as the poshest, wankiest Romans do.
A haul that size doesn’t just materialise out of thin air, it’s missing from somebody’s pocket. Best case scenario? It’s been mislaid by a bank, government department, bookie’s, or someone else similiarly insured to the hilt. Worst case? It’s outta the hands of small-time hoods, low-level gunmen, local mafia, assassins, runners, nixers… Those dregs who would stop at nothing to get that bread back.
I worried that it was the latter.
Solidarity, brothers & sisters…$€฿