Mr Nice_ An Autobiography Part 31

'You know, Howard, I've never smoked in my life. I don't know why people do it.'

'You think it should be illegal, Mr Lovato?'

'That's not for me to say. I'm interested in people who break the laws, not make them. Howard, I gather you knew this was coming, and obviously that's something I'm annoyed about.'

I presumed he was referring to Sunde and Carl.

'I want to establish a relationship with you. Call me Craig. I want you to voluntarily extradite yourself.'

'Give me a cigarette, Craig, and I'll think about it.'

Lovato pulled open a desk drawer, fished out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, and motioned me to help myself. I took several deep drags.

'What about my wife? Let her go, and you can take me to America today.'

'Bob O'Neill, the a.s.sistant United States Attorney from Miami, Florida, who is in charge of your prosecution, will have to make that decision once you are on United States territory.'

'What's the charge against her?'

'I'm not sure. That's articulated by the Office of the United States Attorney, Miami, Florida. I think it's conspiracy to import a Schedule A controlled substance.'

'She never told me she was doing anything like that. Are you sure about this?'

'A Presidential Organised Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force instructed law enforcement agencies of several countries to investigate certain matters relating to your criminal conduct, and on the basis of the findings, the a.s.sistant United States Attorney, Bob O'Neill, deemed there was sufficient evidence against Judy to go before a Grand Jury in Miami, Florida. The Grand Jury returned an indictment against her.'

'So, what is she actually accused of doing?'

'Using her telephone to further your illegal activities.'

'You mean she might have taken a message for me on our home phone here in Palma? That's illegal?'

'It would be something of that nature, Howard. Yes, it is certainly against United States law. I forget the actual statute.'

'My wife is locked up in this jail for answering her own phone. And you want to extradite her from here to lock her up in America. I'd heard the DEA was over the top. What do you call it? Zero tolerance, isn't it? Going around confiscating people's pleasure yachts if there's the remnants of a marijuana roach on board. You really are completely f.u.c.king nuts. Why don't you extradite my one-year-old son? I think he answered the phone on occasion.'

'Howard, I merely enforce the law.'

'Whatever it is, Craig?'

'Whatever it is, Howard.'

'You don't even have to think. It must make life a lot easier.'

'Of course it does, Howard.'

'What are the charges against me?'

'Again, they are articulated by the Office of the United States Attorney, but I'm given to understand that there are fourteen charges against you, of conspiracy, money laundering, and RICO.'

'What's RICO?'

'In the United States you will be a.s.signed a lawyer who will explain this to you.'

'I'm obviously going to fight extradition, unless you let my wife go.'

'You might just beat extradition on a technicality. But I'm a betting man. I'm from Las Vegas. I bet I'll get you. What's the code for these databanks of yours?'

'I can't remember.'

'Howard, we can always get Washington to do it.'

'Yeah, they should find it pretty easy, though they might f.u.c.k it up. How's Lord Moynihan?'

The question threw him a little, but he quickly recovered. 'I think, Howard, he'll come out of this smelling like a rose. By the way, he thinks you have a contract out on him. He's under our protection. I think I'm also authorised to inform you that Patrick Lane has just been arrested by my DEA colleagues in Miami. He is now in MCC, Miami Metropolitan Correctional Center. Chi Chuen Lo, or Balendo Lo, as you know him, was this morning arrested by my Scotland Yard colleagues. Hong Kong International is going down the tubes, Howard. Still, I'm sure you have plenty of money buried somewhere.'

'I've never had any money in my life. Why has Balendo been arrested? What is he meant to have done?'

'He was part of what we refer to as the "Marks Cartel". He worked for you, Howard. We know that.'

'He's a b.l.o.o.d.y travel agent. Nothing else. What's the "Marks Cartel"?'

'The Office of the United States Attorney has reason to believe that Balendo Lo, or Chi Chuen Lo, which is his real name, knowingly facilitated the international travel arrangements of cartel members. The "Marks Cartel" is your organisation, Howard. You've not heard of the Colombian "Medellin Cartel"? Come on.'

'I thought a cartel was a group of people who agreed on things like commodity prices. With whom am I meant to be agreeing in the "Marks Cartel"? Myself?'

'It's a bit like General Motors, Howard. It's all connected.'

I was losing his drift. Either he or I was insane.

'You might like to know, Howard, that Malik, too, is about to be arrested in Karachi.'

'You think Pakistan are going to give him up to you guys?'

'He'll be the most difficult, especially given his close relationship with President Zia, which we know all about. But we'll get him, somehow. He's part of the "Marks Cartel".'

'Why have you arrested David Embley? Is he another extraditable "Marks Cartel" member?'

'It was the Spanish authorities' decision to arrest David, and it's their decision when to let him go. However, I shall say to them that, in my opinion, he was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time: your house when we arrested you. I must say you have beautiful children.'

'Can you talk to Judy, please, and let her know that there's some chance of her being released if I voluntarily extradite myself?'

'I don't like talking to distraught persons. Judith is very distraught.'

'That must limit your conversations quite a bit.'

'I'll see you in prison tomorrow, Howard. I must let my Spanish colleagues return to their families. They must be missing them.'

Back in my holding cell, the drunkard had finally woken up. He was screaming protests in Catalan. The Peruvian terrorist had buried his face in his hands in a gesture of 'Do Not Disturb'. I lay on the floor and began to feel very sad. Things looked bad, and there seemed little I could do other than collect my thoughts together, summon up whatever inner strength I might have, and let the worst day of my life slip away.

At dawn the next morning, I was fingerprinted, photographed, and asked questions about my particulars. Invariably, jailers and prison employees engaged in processing new arrivals have a propensity for misspelling names and addresses. They are most reluctant to make corrections. These mistakes often cause no end of problems further down the line. Is it deliberate? From the processing room I was taken to a reception area where Judy and Geoffrey had already arrived. David Embley was nowhere to be seen. Lovato must have let him go. Judy was in a terrible state, weeping uncontrollably and being fed tranquillisers. A jailer began to put handcuffs on her.

'Hombre, es mi esposa,' I protested. 'No necesitan estos.' I couldn't bear to see her in them.

'Todos son iguales. Todos tienen esposas. Esposas, tambien, tienen esposas,' said the jailer, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of a growing group of his colleagues. (It took a while for me to realise that the source of the humour lay in esposas esposas being the Spanish word for both wives and handcuffs.) The three of us were then quite roughly handcuffed. being the Spanish word for both wives and handcuffs.) The three of us were then quite roughly handcuffed.

Geoffrey, although looking quite bemused, was absolutely silent. We were put in the same prison van and driven to Palma's impressively quaint Palacio de Justicia. Geoffrey remained silent during the five-minute journey to court. Judy sobbed continually.

Emerging from the prison van was like walking on to a film set in full swing. Dazzlingly bright searchlights and thousands of camera flashes illuminated throngs of noisy journalists. We were quickly taken through them to the Palacio's holding cells and then led one at a time to the corridor outside the rooms of the Magistrado. This must have been the second floor that Roger Reaves had jumped out of just a few weeks ago. For sure, he had b.a.l.l.s.

The Magistrado was a young man with a kind face. Through an excellent interpreter, he explained that as a result of a United States Government extradition request, I was to be held at the disposition of the Audiencia Nacional, Madrid. I could volunteer myself for extradition anytime I wanted. I had the right to fight extradition, and I would have the full protection of Spanish law if I did so. I asked the Magistrado if I could telephone my children. He handed me the phone immediately. I rang. Masha answered. The children sounded okay. I told them I'd get me and Judy back home as soon as I could. It was the truth, but it took a while.

We had several hours' separate and solitary wait in the Palacio's holding cells. A local Spanish lawyer came and, in excellent English, introduced himself as Luis Morell. Although a distant relation of my initial lawyer of choice, Julio Morell (who, it seemed, did not want to be remotely involved in this matter), he had been independently engaged by Bob Edwardes to represent me and Judy. I liked him immediately. He gave me some pesetas, a carton of cigarettes, and a change of clothing. He said he'd be over to see us at the prison as soon as he could.

The media crowds were still there as the three of us were taken back to the prison van. I a.s.sumed they were all members of Palma's newspapers and broadcasting companies. Mallorca was, after all, a small island. Local interest was understandable. Judy was looking stronger. She, too, had been allowed to talk to the children. We looked at each other as the prison van drove up to the Centro Penitenciario de Palma, and each of us knew that the other was recalling the time Rafael once pointed it out to us and remarked that its location had been carefully chosen as one in which there was no escape from the hot sun. We got out of the van and were greeted by friendly, smiling prison funcionarios funcionarios and trusty prisoners (prisoners trusted by the authorities), smoking cigarettes and drinking cans of beer. They relieved me of my wedding and engagement rings. I never saw them again. They debated which cells to a.s.sign us to. and trusty prisoners (prisoners trusted by the authorities), smoking cigarettes and drinking cans of beer. They relieved me of my wedding and engagement rings. I never saw them again. They debated which cells to a.s.sign us to.

'Can I have the same cell as my husband?' asked Judy with a humour that came from G.o.d knows where.

The funcionarios funcionarios roared with laughter. roared with laughter.

'May as well try it,' said Judy, with a glimmer of a smile. She was walked off to the women's section, Geoffrey and I to the men's.

We were taken to an empty prison walking yard.

'Sorry, Geoffrey. I didn't expect anything like this to happen. I'm sure you'll be released soon.'

'Don't worry. There's no evidence of any wrongdoing of mine. And I would hate to be in your shoes with my wife locked up. This might be very serious for you, Howard. Very serious, indeed. And I really believe David Embley is behind this. Think about it.'

I couldn't think about it.

Surprisingly, I was put into the same cell as Geoffrey. Within minutes, a trusty banged the door, pushing under it a variety of items. It was a care package from Roger Reaves. It contained cigarettes, cosmetics, writing materials, food, beer, magazines, prison money tokens, and a note in Roger's handwriting. He'd seen our court appearance on the news. He had some dope to smoke if I needed it.

The cell door opened. I was told to pack up my stuff. I was being taken to the tubo tubo, whatever that was. The escorting funcionarios funcionarios stopped outside a cell door over which was written in huge block letters stopped outside a cell door over which was written in huge block letters MUY PELIGROSO MUY PELIGROSO. Inside the cell was a very empty cage of slightly smaller dimensions. I was locked in the cage. The cage was locked in the cell. The cell was locked in the prison. I watched two large c.o.c.kroaches cautiously emerge from a filthy toilet hole. They were a lot bigger here than in Brixton or Wandsworth prisons. It would be difficult to bond with these creatures. Night fell. I lay on a filthy mattress and chain-smoked until daybreak.

I heard a trolley wheel to a stop outside the cell door.

'I am the morning funcionario funcionario. Would you like some breakfast, sir?'

Sir! This was different.

'Yes please,' I answered.

The cell door was opened, and a tray containing a sumptuous breakfast, good enough for a condemned man, was pushed through.

'I will be back later, sir, to see if you need any more.'

He didn't come back, but it was a nice thought.

I spent all the morning being interviewed by a series of prison officials and prison social workers. After the usual fingerprinting and photographic session, I was taken back to my cage and given another first-cla.s.s meal. I fell asleep for a few minutes.

'Dennis Hooward Marks,' yelled a voice from beyond the cage.

I jumped up from the floor.

'Si.'

'Tiene visita.'

The cell and inner cage were unlocked, and I was escorted from the tubo tubo to the visiting area, which was a row of very low-walled cubicles seating prisoners on one side and visitors on the other. The prisoners all seemed to know each other's visitors, who kept dashing from cubicle to cubicle, shouting at never-ending streams of screaming children. The noise was unbelievable. At any moment, each prisoner had an average of six visitors and was separated from them by a sheet of almost opaque bullet-proof gla.s.s. At the bottom of the gla.s.s were a few cigarette-sized holes through which conversation was meant to take place. One could see and hear everyone except one's visitor. to the visiting area, which was a row of very low-walled cubicles seating prisoners on one side and visitors on the other. The prisoners all seemed to know each other's visitors, who kept dashing from cubicle to cubicle, shouting at never-ending streams of screaming children. The noise was unbelievable. At any moment, each prisoner had an average of six visitors and was separated from them by a sheet of almost opaque bullet-proof gla.s.s. At the bottom of the gla.s.s were a few cigarette-sized holes through which conversation was meant to take place. One could see and hear everyone except one's visitor.

'Cabina numero uno. Solo cinco minutes, Hooward.'

Only five minutes! This was no conjugal visit. I sat opposite Masha. She seemed very much in control. The children were okay. She had seen Judy. The lawyer had just seen Judy and was currently having a meeting with the prison director. The police had taken away our cars. They had also removed many items from the house, but they had missed my personal dope stash. The Palma Nova flat, the one I'd bought from Rafael, had also been busted. That worried me because hidden somewhere in the ceiling was a large can of Mallorquian home-grown gra.s.s and one of my false pa.s.sports. I explained to Masha where the hiding-place was. She would check. She had brought me some clothes, books, and the last three days' British and Spanish newspapers. The package had been given to the funcionarios funcionarios.

We had been talking for just two minutes when I felt someone tugging at my trouser leg. I looked around and saw Roger Reaves. He was on all fours, looking up at me and brandishing a can of beer and three ready-rolled joints.

'Drink the beer and hide the joints down your crotch. I hate to see you all like this. Man, I couldn't believe what I saw on TV. Why did those sons of b.i.t.c.hes pick Judy up? I've been praying for her. You know they did the same thing to me in Georgia all them years ago. They picked Marie up. The dirty sons of b.i.t.c.hes. But now I've got me a way outa here. I've been praying to G.o.d for it. Marie's going to fire a rope over the wall into the exercise yard. She'll use a crossbow. I've got me a few funcionarios funcionarios paid off. I can get you out of your cell at night. You can come with me. We'll come back for Judy. Then we can go to South Africa and grow pot. Marie and Judy would love it there. Lord, it's a wonderful country. There's a guy here from Rotterdam. He can ship the stuff from South Africa to Holland. You know how much good weed goes for in Holland now? By the way, that Irish friend of yours definitely ripped us all off.' paid off. I can get you out of your cell at night. You can come with me. We'll come back for Judy. Then we can go to South Africa and grow pot. Marie and Judy would love it there. Lord, it's a wonderful country. There's a guy here from Rotterdam. He can ship the stuff from South Africa to Holland. You know how much good weed goes for in Holland now? By the way, that Irish friend of yours definitely ripped us all off.'

I was finding this all a bit hard to take.

'Roger, I must talk to Masha. I've only got another couple of minutes more.'

'Oh! Lord! Howard. I'm sorry. Please excuse me. I'll see you all later. G.o.d bless you.'

'Michael Katz has come over,' said Masha. 'He's going to try to see you with the Spanish lawyer.'

'Termina, Hooward, por favor, ahora.'

Masha was asked to leave. The visit was over. I was given the package of clothing and reading material she had brought and taken back to the tubo tubo, and then immediately back to the same visiting cubicle. This time it was my Spanish lawyer, Luis Morell. He gave it to me straight. The Americans wanted me badly. The media was giving my arrest maximum publicity. It would be almost impossible to persuade Spain not to extradite me. Judy had a much better chance. Eventually, we would both have to be transferred to Madrid prisons in good time for the Audiencia Nacional's final decision. He would try to get Judy bail or, failing that, keep her in Palma for as long as possible so she could keep in touch with the children. He and Michael Katz would come to see us later for a long visit.

Back in the cage at the tubo tubo, I looked at the newspaper reports of yesterday's court appearance and the day before's arrest. They were unreal. Both broadsheets and tabloids reported official statements from the Florida United States Attorney's Office that they had just busted the 'biggest marijuana operation the world has ever seen'. It was 'the biggest drug bust in history'. According to Thomas Cash, official spokesman for the DEA, I was the 'Marco Polo of drug trafficking' and shipped in 'thousands of tons'. According to the Daily Express Daily Express and and Daily Mirror Daily Mirror, I ran a '200,000,000 cannabis empire', using as part of my modus operandi modus operandi 'undersea hollows and hideaways marked by oceanographic buoys'. One of these hideaways, a cave on the Costa Brava, had just been busted and inside was discovered a 'huge hashish supermarket', well stocked with fifteen tons of the finest Lebanese, several fast boats, and a cache of machine-guns. I owned a fleet of freighters. I owned finance houses. I had homes all over the world. I had connections with top gangsters, secret services, and terrorist organisations. I had boasted I was 'too smart, too sophisticated for any law agency to catch'. The 'undersea hollows and hideaways marked by oceanographic buoys'. One of these hideaways, a cave on the Costa Brava, had just been busted and inside was discovered a 'huge hashish supermarket', well stocked with fifteen tons of the finest Lebanese, several fast boats, and a cache of machine-guns. I owned a fleet of freighters. I owned finance houses. I had homes all over the world. I had connections with top gangsters, secret services, and terrorist organisations. I had boasted I was 'too smart, too sophisticated for any law agency to catch'. The Daily Mirror Daily Mirror described me as the head of 'a multi-billion pound international empire' and as 'one of the most sophisticated drug barons of all time, with a ruthless organisation matching anything operated by the Mafia or the feared Colombians'. One of my terrorist underlings, James McCann of the Provisional IRA, had also been arrested in Palma. described me as the head of 'a multi-billion pound international empire' and as 'one of the most sophisticated drug barons of all time, with a ruthless organisation matching anything operated by the Mafia or the feared Colombians'. One of my terrorist underlings, James McCann of the Provisional IRA, had also been arrested in Palma.

What the h.e.l.l was Jim doing in Palma?

The report of McCann's arrest prompted the Republican Press Centre in Belfast to make what I believe was the IRA's first official statement concerning McCann's links with them. It read: 'The Irish Republican Army repudiates any suggestion by the media that James McCann, arrested for involvement in drug smuggling, has ever had any connection with our movement or our struggle. Our att.i.tude to drugs and drug trafficking is well known.'

The newspaper reports also revealed that my organisation had been stumbled upon when Scotland Yard and the FBI were jointly investigating the whereabouts of the proceeds of the November 1983 Brinks-Mat 26,000,000 gold bullion robbery at London's Heathrow airport. Finally, proof of my ingenuity had been provided by the discovery in my home of empty toothpaste tubes used for concealing messages carried throughout the world by my couriers.

I was vainly attempting to grasp all this when I was again taken from the tubo tubo, this time to the director's office. Inside were Joaquin Mejuto, director of Centro Penitenciario de Palma, Luis Morell, and Michael Katz. Katz was wearing one of my shirts, one that Amber had given me. Luis explained that due to the high-profile nature of my arrest and its presumed legal complexity, Senor Mejuto had been kind enough to allow us to use his offices for visits from my lawyers. Senor Mejuto would now leave us in private, but was there anything that I needed? I said I would like to see Judy. Senor Mejuto nodded and left.

'Thanks for coming, Michael,' I said. 'Who else has been arrested?'

'The only names I have are Roger Reaves, John Denbigh, Ernie Combs ...'

'Wait a minute, Michael. These guys have already been in prison for ages.'

'I suppose they've been re-arrested for this charge. The other names are Patrick Lane, Balendo Lo, James Newton, Teresita Caballero, John Francis, Brian Daniels ...'

'Those last three names mean nothing to me.'