Mr Nice_ An Autobiography Part 34

'Good. Sign here.'

The Articulo 10 cell block was grim, bare, and dark. The cell was filthy and full of c.o.c.kroaches. Inedible and disgusting food was thrown in twice a day by some illtempered and nasty funcionarios funcionarios, who wielded riot sticks and pocket tear-gas sprays. The window gave an oblique view of the patio patio, in which handfuls of prisoners took turns to exercise. Besides me, at least two Articulo 10 prisoners were prohibited from a.s.sociation with others. As I did my turn of solitary exercise, I was stared at by dozens of pairs of eyes looking out from their cells. A couple of guys waved and smiled. I waved back and was yelled at by the funcionarios funcionarios for doing so. for doing so.

Each day dragged. One of them was my forty-third birthday. No mail was delivered. It was obviously being held back. My mother would have sent at least three birthday cards well in advance. There was no visit or word from Katz or Gustavo. I was miserable. I had no idea why I was held under Articulo 10. I didn't know what I had been charged with. Where was Judy? How was she? Were the children okay? Was Katz able to get hold of my money?

The week's complete isolation ended with a delivery of a large parcel of newspapers, letters, and cards, mainly from family and friends. Judy was still in Palma. Bail could not be applied for because the Palma court dealing with such matters was closed for August. Geoffrey Kenion had been moved to Alcala-Meco and placed in the same cell block as Roger. The President of Pakistan, Zia ul-Haq, had been killed in a mysterious mid-air explosion. This wouldn't be good news for Malik. He might lose some of his protection.

A large envelope came from Katz. He had got hold of the American indictment specifying the charges against me. Reading it was an unnerving introduction to United States law.

A British indictment is normally a straightforward one-page doc.u.ment clearly stating the allegations. My American indictment was forty pages of incomprehensible bureaucratese. Essentially, I had been charged with running, from 1970 until 1987, an enterprise devoted to cannabis dealing and money laundering. I had been separately charged with conspiring to run such an enterprise. These were the so-called RICO charges. I had also been separately charged with an enormous variety of specific acts and conspiracies, ranging from the 1973 rock-group speaker scams to money laundering in 1987. Much of the conduct in question seemed totally innocuous, such as my travelling from London to Rome in 1973 and my receiving telephone calls at my Palma home in 1986. The indictment said these acts, in themselves, were illegal because they 'furthered a racketeering enterprise'. Judy and virtually all the other twenty co-defendants had been charged with conspiring to import 15,500 kilos of hashish into the United States during 1986. A few of us had also been charged, in the American indictment, with conspiring to import several tons of Thai marijuana into Canada.

Although the charge against Judy and some others was absurd, the formal accusations against me, in general terms, were true, despite being a little over the top. I had been dope-dealing and money-laundering since 1970. I felt hard done by in being charged yet again for the 1973 speaker scam and felt puzzled by the inclusion in an American charging doc.u.ment of an importation to Canada scam, but presumably a good American attorney could get me some relief on these particular matters. The rest was down to what sort of evidence was needed to support the charges and how much of it they had. I would have to examine the evidence and concoct a story consistent with it. I had done it before. Until I saw the evidence, I could do nothing in this regard. It was important now to study American law and Spanish extradition law. I wrote to my sister requesting some basic books on American law and wrote to Katz requesting details of the statutes mentioned in the indictment and of the penalties for their infringement.

Each hour, five Articulo 10 prisoners took their exercise in the patio patio. To discourage friendships, the individuals were continually varied. Throughout my time on Articulo 10, I befriended just two prisoners: Juan, a Spanish gypsy from Andalusia, who was in the cell adjacent to mine, and Darin Bufalino from Boston, Ma.s.sachusetts. They had both recently escaped from Spanish prisons. Darin was the grandson of Russell Bufalino, the head of one of New York's five major crime families and the man accused of ordering the murder of Teamster boss Jimmy Hoffa. Darin was being extradited to the state of Ma.s.sachusetts for the armed robbery of an armoured car and didn't think it worthwhile even attempting to fight extradition. He didn't know much about RICO but had heard it was a hard rap to beat.

Towards the end of August, Gustavo visited me. Judy had been transferred to Centro Penitenciario de Yeserias, Madrid's prison for women. Gustavo would see her later that day and be registered as her lawyer. The prison authorities had told Gustavo I was put on Articulo 10 because I planned to escape. He was furious and planned to get me recla.s.sified. He, too, had managed to get a copy of the indictment, as well as a copy of the United States Sentencing Reform Act. He explained that the Sentencing Reform Act, which abolished parole, allowed for only 15% remission for good behaviour, and provided for vastly increased terms of imprisonment for drugs offences, had been in force since November 1987, almost a year. However, it had been a rather controversial piece of legislation, and its const.i.tutionality was currently being examined in the United States Supreme Court.

Back in the dim light of my dirty cell, I read the Sentencing Reform Act. It made for chilling reading. If Judy was convicted of the solitary charge against her, she would be sentenced to a minimum term of ten years' imprisonment with no possibility of parole. If I was convicted of any of the main charges against me, I would be sentenced to a mandatory term of life imprisonment with no possibility of parole. Life meant life. If the new Sentencing Reform Act applied to me, if I couldn't beat extradition, and if I got convicted, I would never be a free man again. Even if I lived to be a hundred, I would die in a federal prison. I would never again be able to go to a bar, a restaurant, a disco, a concert, a party, a shop, an office, or a house. No more country walks, sea views, or loud music. No more hashish hilarity with old friends. No more drunken nights in Europe's and Asia's capitals. I wouldn't be able to bring up my children, or even see them being brought up. No more cuddles and excitement. None of that joy. Nothing to look forward to. I would never make love again.

That night I heard my children screaming. I jumped out of bed and ran to their bedroom door. It turned into cold steel.

I spent a few weeks of almost sleepless nights pathetically freaking out in my misery, sadness, and madness. A letter from Judy didn't help. Where would the children go to school? How would little one-year-old Patrick manage without his mummy? Why wouldn't they let her out on bail? Did one have to be a real criminal to be granted such relief? Her isolation from the children, Masha, and Palma friends coupled with the atrocious conditions in Yeserias prison were taking their toll. She was questioning her ability to survive any longer in these circ.u.mstances. I could not begin to let her know that she might be looking at a minimum sentence of ten years.

There was nothing but disappointment, uncertainty, and loneliness. George Bush was to become President of the United States, so there would be no change for the better in American drug policy.

At his first attempt Gustavo was unable to get Judy bail. He failed to get me off Articulo 10 and failed to get permission for Judy and me to see each other. Scotland Yard would not return to Katz the truckful of possessions they had seized from our Chelsea flat and my office at Hong Kong International Travel Centre. The Spanish court would not order the Palma police to return the cars and other possessions to Masha in Palma.

The Americans amplified their extradition process to include a further extradition request specifically for the 1973 speaker scam. This came from the Federal District of Nevada, making it the fourth separate authority to charge me with precisely the same offence. Lovato did not grab the bait I had offered. He did not come to see me surrept.i.tiously and illegally question me. Instead, he and US Attorney Bob O'Neill formally applied to the Spanish authorities through Comision Rogatoria, a legal device used by co-operating countries' law enforcement bodies for purposes such as obtaining witnesses' sworn testimony, obtaining doc.u.mentary evidence, or questioning nationals held on foreign soil. The Audiencia Nacional readily granted the application. Gustavo countered by applying for permission to question Lovato and O'Neill while they were in Madrid. The Audiencia Nacional quickly denied that request without saying why.

After being granted an extension of a further forty days, the United States Government finally served the extradition papers. These included evidence seeking to establish a prima-facie case against Judy, Geoffrey Kenion, and me. Lovato had written some of the accompanying affidavits, swearing statements that were models of DEA ungrammatical hyperbole. He had apparently personally identified over 160 members of my organisation. One of them, Roger Reaves, was my 'agronomist'. According to Lovato, Judy had 'instructed members of the organisation in the furtherance of their illegal activities. These instructions included money transfers, co-ordinating travel and communications between the members of the organisation. JUDITH MARKS has full knowledge of all alias' [sic] and codes utilised by the organisation and such [sic] can pa.s.s instructions in the absence of her husband, DENNIS HOWARD MARKS, with the same proficiency as he.'

There were dozens of summaries of investigations, tapped telephone calls, and surveillances carried out by the DEA in Palma, New York, Bangkok, California, Manila, Florida, and Karachi (where they were enthusiastically a.s.sisted by Michael Stephenson, Her Majesty's Customs and Excise man in Pakistan). HM Customs had also carried out extensive observations in London. It seemed that no actual illegal activity had been seen or overheard in any of these places, but this obstacle had been overcome by Lovato's long-winded explanations of what lay between the lines and behind the scenes. As far as he was concerned, we were all dopers; therefore, all our conversations were about dope deals, all our activities were scams, and all our financial transactions were money laundering. A rather circular argument, but in most cases he had correctly guessed what was going on. But certainly not always. There were loads of mistaken identifications and off-the-wall conjectures and speculations.

US Attorney Bob O'Neill had also written a sworn affidavit purporting to explain the appropriate American law. It failed miserably to do so, largely by a.s.suming that words and phrases such as 'felon', 'Grand Jury', 'racketeering enterprise', 'pattern of racketeering activity', 'interstate transportation of wagering paraphernalia', 'wire fraud', 'laundering of monetary instruments', and 'lending money at a usurious rate at least twice the enforcement rate' were common parlance in Europe. Gustavo and I still did not understand what RICO really was.

The Audiencia Nacional, however, didn't have these problems of non-comprehension. As far as they were concerned, the papers were perfectly in order, and unless we objected at a forthcoming court appearance, they were happy to proceed with our extradition. Should we object, there would be a court hearing sometime in the New Year. We objected.

In October, Judy's youngest brother Marcus and his wife packed up their home and carpentry business in the Dordogne. In return for a living wage, they had agreed to move to Madrid, visit Judy and me as often as permitted, and liaise between us, our lawyers, our co-defendants' lawyers, our friends, and our families. They brought Amber, Francesca, and Patrick to visit me. Although I was relieved to see them alive and well and very comforted to hear of the support being given them by Bob Edwardes and their school, a ten-minute meeting through gla.s.s left me deeply depressed. A visit from my parents intensified the depression. I was being brought to terms with what I was missing. I had lost control of everything. I didn't want any more visits. didn't want to reply to the scores of letters I was now receiving from known and unknown well-wishers. Even when I saw Judy at the extradition hearing, I just felt numb and couldn't speak. I saw despair and accusation in her eyes. Why hadn't I stopped smuggling when she told me to? How could I let them do this to her? Why had I ruined our children's lives? All was now lost.

I curled up in my cell. The winter had started. Articulo 10 prisoners were not allowed heating or hot water. I shivered in my misery and fear. What was going to happen to my family? What was going to happen to me? Life in the cell forever. I'd had enough of this life if this was what it amounted to.

I'm not going to do myself in, but there's nothing for me to look forward to now. I'm never getting out of prison. No one's going to come and save me. I can't have hope, like a hostage. I can't even help anyone; I don't see anyone. There's no one I can love and touch. I suppose I'll just live it out. I could read lots of books. But what would be the point? I could never apply what I learned. I could become fit and do a million push-ups a day, but why? I would only become healthier and have to live through more of this. The next meaningful experience would be death. Maybe after that, things would look up. Oh, G.o.d! Why hadn't I still sorted out whether or not this life was all we had? All those stone circles, cathedrals, monasteries, and temples I'd visited in my travels had been no help. If there was a better time ahead, I could handle this one. Elvis and John Lennon were still kind of around somewhere, weren't they?

And what about Jesus Christ? Sweet Jesus, if you really did beat this death rap and if you really do know there's lots of good times to come, please, please, make sure we, whom I sincerely believe you love, also know.

I read the Bible. The Old Testament was upsetting. Lots of wars and killing. G.o.d was much nastier than they'd told us in Chapel in Wales. Was He American? St Paul was a disappointment. I didn't like the bit about always obeying authority. But Jesus was great.

But what about all the Hindu and Buddhist stuff? Weird G.o.ds and monsters and lots of lives to live. That would be handy. I could get into that. Jesus didn't say there wasn't any reincarnation. I could prepare myself for the next lives while just being a remote spectator of this one.

My sister had sent me a book on yoga. I remembered how the same book had helped me during my last time in prison. This time, the conditions were infinitely worse, but it might still help. I spent several hours a day contorting myself, breathing deeply, and meditating. I fasted on many days and ate very little on the others. My strength and spirit began to return.

Juan, the Andalusian gypsy, and I were in the patio patio. We were spending our exercise period watching large ants. We needed some hashish. Neither of us had smoked any for weeks. The flying battery service did occasionally operate, but it never had anything for me, Juan, or Bufalino. Juan said it was easy to smuggle hashish into the cell block by hiding it in books. He had no money, but if I wanted to arrange to send him a book concealing some hashish, he would take the risk of receiving it this end, and we could split it between us. Marcus sent him a suitably doctored copy of the Spanish translation of James Clavell's Whirlwind Whirlwind. We had enough top-quality Moroccan to get stoned every night for a few weeks.

I enjoyed the next visit from my parents, but my father had a strange tale to yell through the gla.s.s. Bob Edwardes had received a booking at his La Vileta restaurant from someone claiming to be the aide of Prince Khalid of Saudi Arabia. The aide was staying at the Valparaiso Hotel, Palma. On some pretext, Bob rang up the hotel, who confirmed that Prince Khalid was a guest and that his aide had indeed made a booking at the La Vileta restaurant. The phoney Prince, the aide, a bodyguard, and an attractive American blonde turned up and ate a Sunday lunch. Amidst brief courtesies, Bob was asked to join the table. Prince Khalid's stand-in told Bob that he was under orders from his uncle, the brother of King Fahd and Minister of Defence in the Saudi Government, to do what he could to release me and Judy from prison. He claimed to be able to use the Saudi Arabian royal family's good offices within the Spanish Government as a way of solving the problem as well as having several million dollars available for any expenses. Meetings at the Valparaiso Hotel followed, including one in which Masha and the children were invited to a private tea. The normally public terrace had been especially closed off for the occasion. Bob was asked by the aide to go to Geneva and pick up funds to use for my present needs. They met at La Reserve. The aide began prevaricating, and Bob smelt a rat. Bob flew back to Palma and heard no more.

'I'm darned if I can work it out,' said Dad. 'You know some odd fellows, you do.'

'I've no idea what it's about, Dad.'

I still haven't worked it out.

Fifteen.

MARCO POLO.

Yoga, meditation, hashish, and the bizarrely unexpected are an invigorating combination, and I was in fairly good mental shape when I was summoned to the Audiencia Nacional for the Comision Rogatoria with Lovato and O'Neill. They were accompanied by El Fiscal, the Spanish prosecutor, and looking confident, smug, and contented. Gustavo sat close by looking solemn. The judge explained that they had the right to ask me questions. I had the right not to answer. Did I intend to answer any questions? I said I did not. The judge said the proceedings were closed. Lovato whispered a few sentences to El Fiscal, who then asked if Lovato and O'Neill could have an informal talk with me. The judge stood up and said his function had finished. He washed his hands of any further proceedings and walked out of the court. El Fiscal told the guards to leave and wait outside the door and then asked Gustavo if he wanted to stay. Gustavo refused to answer, but he stayed. Lovato and O'Neill extended their hands. I shook them. Lovato seemed to have put on weight. O'Neill was young, good-looking, and short. Lovato spoke.

'Howard, I don't blame you for not answering questions in front of the judge. My intention was to have a private talk with you in response to the note you wrote asking me to visit you. In the past, the Spanish authorities would allow me to visit incarcerated individuals, but now we have to do it this way. Your lawyer submitted a request to the court to ask Bob and me some questions you had. Bob and I will now answer them if you wish.'

'Gustavo, what shall we ask them?'

'I advise you not to say anything, Howard. This is most irregular.'

'I've read some of the newspaper reports of your pleas for Judith's release,' continued Lovato, 'and I feel I have to inform you that we, as the United States Government, cannot negotiate any matter involving her release. Plea-bargaining is illegal in this country and will have to wait until you are on United States territory. However, it is undoubtedly in both your and your wife's interests to cease opposing extradition and come voluntarily to Florida. The United States Government would not oppose Judith being granted bail if she came to Miami. We could plea-bargain both your sentences. Judith could visit you while you remained incarcerated in Miami Metropolitan Correctional Center. She could have the children with her. All this prison time you're both doing in Spain is just dead time. None of it will be deducted from the prison sentences you will receive. Isn't that right, Bob?'

'I believe that is correct, yes, but I'm not a sentencing expert,' said O'Neill.

'Is that right, Gustavo?' I asked.

Gustavo said nothing. He carried on writing, taking down every word that was said.

'Why have you charged me with the 1973 speaker scam?' I asked. 'I've already done a sentence for that.'

'We, the United States Government, don't recognise foreign convictions,' answered Lovato.

'Why is that load of marijuana in Vancouver anything to do with America? Have you stopped recognising foreign countries as well?'

'Well, Canada is close to us. But besides that we have evidence to show that the same product was sold in California. It is the United States Government's belief that the consignment was destined for distribution within its borders. This gives us jurisdiction. We have long arms, Howard.'

'Mr O'Neill, does the Sentencing Reform Act apply to these charges?'

'Call me Bob, Howard. I feel more comfortable that way. It's a good question. The simple answer is "I don't know." I wouldn't want to mislead you. But if the Act did apply, your mandatory sentence would, of course, be life. If it did not apply, then you would be subject to a maximum of 145 years.'

'It's a long time either way, Howard,' said Lovato. 'Come to the United States now and start making it shorter, maybe a lot shorter.'

'I don't think Spain is going to extradite me. With due respect, I don't think you're too confident of it either; otherwise you wouldn't be trying to persuade me to come voluntarily.'

'It's just for your own good, Howard. I hate to see you doing dead time.'

O'Neill broke in. 'Howard, I'll be frank with you. One of the reasons we want you there quickly is that the trial of your co-defendants is scheduled to begin early next year. For reasons of economy, we'd like to try you at the same time. If I was you, I'd want a multi-defendant trial, too, rather than be the only one facing the jury. But I'm not going to even attempt to coax you. It's your decision. But I'm interested why you don't think Spain will extradite you. Why won't they?'

'Because I'm charged with RICO, money-laundering, and conspiracy. None of these are crimes in Spain.'

'That's irrelevant. They are in the United States,' said Lovato.

'But for Spain to extradite,' I argued, 'it has to recognise them as crimes.'

'Howard, I'm not commenting on the advice you may have received from your excellent attorney Senor Gustavo Lopez Munoz y Larraz here, but you have to do the time, not him. Forget the legal bulls.h.i.t that happens in these courts. You will be extradited. Spain already upset us by not extraditing Ochoa. Spain realised it made a mistake. Spain will not upset the United States Government in that way again. Rely on it.'

'Still the big guy on the block, Craig?'

'You better believe it, Howard.'

'Unless there are further questions, I think we'd better leave, Agent Lovato,' said O'Neill.

El Fiscal brought the guards back, and they took me to a lawyers' visiting cubicle to see Gustavo.

'Howard, I have never seen anything like that in my life. The judge's behaviour was atrocious. I will ensure that an official complaint is made. I will tell the newspapers today. But forget that, for I have good news for you.'

'What?'

'I am sure we can now get Judy bail.'

'Why? What has changed?'

'A number of your co-defendants, including all the females, have been granted bail by the American authorities. Even Judy's brother, Patrick Lane, has been offered release on bail for a $1,000,000 bond. Another co-defendant, James Newton, has been released on bail by the British authorities. I have received many compelling letters from doctors, psychiatrists, and residents of Mallorca expressing concern about the plight of your children. It will soon be Christmas; even judges can be human. I have excellent reason to believe Judy will be granted bail. The application may prove to be a little expensive, but it will succeed.'

'That's great news, Gustavo. Thank you.'

'There is more good news. A short time ago France requested the extradition of a man found in Spain. The offence was international credit-card fraud. Spain denied extradition on the basis that he could be tried equally well in Spain.'

'Presumably, though, Gustavo, he had been charged by the Spanish authorities for the same offence. Spain hasn't charged me with anything. We can't make them charge me, can we?'

'That is where you are wrong, Howard. We can ensure you are charged through accion popular accion popular, a method by which Spaniards can pet.i.tion a court to force the police to prosecute. There has been a great deal of coverage of your case in the Spanish newspapers. Everyone knows Marco Polo, believe me. There were plenty of references to caves of hashish in the Costa Brava. Your headquarters were in Palma de Mallorca. You must have broken Spanish law, so why send you to Florida rather than try you here? My professional colleagues resent what they see as an example of judicial colonisation: America administering our system of justice. Spain's legal system is perfectly adequate, yet it is treated like that of an incompetent banana republic.'

'If I was charged here, what sentence would I get?'

'You would not even get convicted, but the maximum sentence in Spain for any cannabis offence is six years. You would be out after serving two.'

'What about Judy?'

'She would be immediately released.'

'What's the next step, Gustavo?'

'We get forty signatures from people outraged at the extent of drug trafficking taking place within Spain and furious with the Spanish Government for abrogating its responsibility to deal with the problem. They demand that you, Judy, and Kenion be charged for the crimes you have committed in Spain. On the strength of this, a lawyer will submit an accion popular accion popular to the court. It mustn't be me, obviously, but it will be a very good friend. The arguments will be mine. He will simply sign and submit it.' to the court. It mustn't be me, obviously, but it will be a very good friend. The arguments will be mine. He will simply sign and submit it.'

'Okay. Let's do it. It sounds wonderful. Anything else?'

'Yes. I have tried and tried to understand RICO. I cannot. If I cannot, the Audiencia Nacional will not be able to. But they will pretend to understand and say it's perfectly proper to extradite you for such a charge. I suggest we bring to next year's extradition hearing an American lawyer, one sympathetic to your position, who is a qualified expert on RICO. The Audiencia Nacional will then be forced to accept that RICO has no equivalent whatsoever in Spanish law and is an unextraditable charge. I could probably find such a lawyer, but maybe you know of one.'

'That's a good idea, Gustavo. I'm sure I could find one.'

'Also, Howard, I think we should ask the Audiencia Nacional to allow us to present Bernard Simons at the extradition hearing so that he can explain to the court that you have already done a sentence for the 1973 speaker scam.'

'Okay. What about this rule about not extraditing from Spain someone who might end up with a sentence of more than thirty years? I'm apparently facing the possibility of life, or with a bit of luck, 145 years.'

'The United States Government will give an a.s.surance to the Audiencia Nacional that you will not receive a sentence greater than thirty years, but it doesn't mean very much. If the Americans get you across the Atlantic, it's a different ball game, as they themselves say. But, Howard, you will not be extradited. The accion popular accion popular will work, if nothing else.' will work, if nothing else.'

'I hope so, Gustavo. Is there any other news?'

'Yes. I received a call from Marcus yesterday. He had spoken to Katz, who is now in Miami. Katz has got copies of all the evidence the prosecution intend presenting against your co-defendants. He is bringing it here soon.'

'I'll go through it with a toothcomb, Gustavo. Anything else?'

'That's it.'

Gustavo's lawyer friend submitted the accion popular accion popular to the court. To add more force to the pet.i.tioners' arguments, I capitalised on my newsworthiness and wrote long letters to Spanish newspapers complaining how the Americans had thwarted my plans to turn Mallorca into the Hong Kong of the Mediterranean. Fabulously wealthy Far Eastern businessmen and Saudi Arabian princes had approved plans to invest colossal sums of money building final-stage a.s.sembly plants, leisure parks, and luxury hotels. The letters were published on a couple of front pages. As expected, they were interpreted as proof of my wicked desires to flood the country with drug money. I gave interviews to the Spanish magazine to the court. To add more force to the pet.i.tioners' arguments, I capitalised on my newsworthiness and wrote long letters to Spanish newspapers complaining how the Americans had thwarted my plans to turn Mallorca into the Hong Kong of the Mediterranean. Fabulously wealthy Far Eastern businessmen and Saudi Arabian princes had approved plans to invest colossal sums of money building final-stage a.s.sembly plants, leisure parks, and luxury hotels. The letters were published on a couple of front pages. As expected, they were interpreted as proof of my wicked desires to flood the country with drug money. I gave interviews to the Spanish magazine Panorama Panorama, stating that Spain was a paradise for drug users and traffickers and that I had personally smuggled into Spain large quant.i.ties of dope. Gustavo got a few more 'enraged citizens' to submit these newspaper and magazine articles to the court as further evidence of the dire need for me to be busted by the Spanish.

The next time we met, Juan and I were running low on hashish. He suggested that I arrange to get some sewn into a pair of trousers and mailed to him. I asked Marcus to do it. A couple of nights later, some funcionarios funcionarios marched into Juan's cell. A scuffle broke out. There was the hiss of teargas spray, and whines of pain echoed down the metal corridors. Other prisoners banged their doors with their shoes. The marched into Juan's cell. A scuffle broke out. There was the hiss of teargas spray, and whines of pain echoed down the metal corridors. Other prisoners banged their doors with their shoes. The funcionarios funcionarios marched back, still scuffling. marched back, still scuffling.

'Juan, Juan. Que pasa Que pasa?' I yelled.

'No lo se, Marco Polo. Son unos hijos de puta. Todos. Pero no se preocupe. Asi es la vida. Adios, mi amigo, y suerte.'

Poor Juan. They'd obviously busted the dope, and he'd given the funcionarios funcionarios some lip when he'd been confronted. I never saw him again. some lip when he'd been confronted. I never saw him again.

My first wife, Ilze, had a friend, Gerard E. Lynch, who was Professor of Law of Columbia University, New York. He was an expert on RICO and had published extensively on the subject. He sent me articles. I understood RICO. For an appropriate consideration, he would be delighted to come to Madrid and explain RICO to the Audiencia Nacional.

Katz brought in the doc.u.ments of evidence from Miami. There were over ten thousand papers, two thousand of which were transcripts of telephone taps on my phone. It didn't make for comforting reading, but there didn't seem anything there that clinched it for the prosecution. The evidence made it obvious that most of those charged had been up to some sort of skulduggery, but exactly what was open to interpretation. No major player was gra.s.sing, and I felt sure that none would. Numerous defences were leaping to mind. This could even be fun. Let's beat them again.

At the beginning of December, I was called in front of the junta junta. Although my walks with Juan had made my Spanish quite proficient, a Nigerian junkie prisoner had been summoned to act as my interpreter. Each member of the junta junta rose and shook my hand. rose and shook my hand.

'Ah. Senor Marks. El Marco Polo de las drogas. El famoso. Como esta?'

'I am well,' I replied, 'but why have I been put on Articulo 10, and why am I still on it?'

'Because, Senor Marks, the DEA say you are the leader of an armed gang.'

'I am not,' I protested, 'and never have been. I hate violence.'

'We have made our own investigation and drawn our own conclusions,' said the head of the junta junta. 'We agree with you. In one week you will be released from Articulo 10 and sent to a normal cell block. Good luck, Senor Marks.'