It was the second or third day when the vice consul from the British embassy in Quito arrived to speak with me and Nicky. As I had guessed they were already aware owing to the involvement of the British police. They had instigated the arrest having passed intelligence to the Ecuadorians as to my whereabouts, the purpose of my visit and – crucially – the method we were using to smuggle the cocaine out of the country. This the Ecuadorian police had let slip at some point when boasting about having captured me. It was further confirmed when I received some papers from the prosecutor. On the very first page was the sentence ‘we were called by a female officer from the British police who informed us of your arrival and intentions to traffic drugs, namely cocaine, from this country to Europe’.
The vice consul, a woman called Rachel, brought both Nicky and me a fleece blanket, toiletries and some food, along with an information pack outlining exactly what they could and couldn’t do to help.
I asked Rachel, ‘How can the embassy assist Nicky and me legally? Are you obliged to provide a lawyer free of charge to us as in Britain? Does legal aid apply here?’
This barrage of questions was turning into an overwhelming tidal wave. Rachel raised her hands, signalling for me to stop. But I already had an idea as to what the answer was going to be.
‘I’m afraid we can’t interfere or be seen to be meddling in another country’s legal system. I’m very sorry but we can’t offer any help on the legal front other than providing a list of lawyers we recommend.’
Nicky’s face dropped. I hadn’t really expected any help from the British government in trying to regain our freedom, as I was now sure it was they who were doing their utmost to lock me up. But Nicky had been more optimistic, believing the embassy was duty bound to pay for a lawyer and go out of their way to make sure we were freed.
‘We have a list of reputable lawyers with whom the embassy has worked in the past,’ Rachel went on. ‘The problem in this country is that a lot of the supposed lawyers are unqualified and out to con you. We have had several other British inmates robbed of large quantities of cash. You have to be very careful when it comes to lawyers.’
She handed us each a copy of the list, which ran to several pages. The information pack also included a great deal about daily life in the prison, how to receive money transfers, communication with family, and some Spanish translations of common words and phrases. The basic process of how the legal system worked in Ecuador was outlined.
During the first meeting Rachel revealed that she had actually been told by the British authorities to have nothing to do with me, not even to speak to me, which she said was the first time this had ever happened. She asked if this was a reflection of the seriousness of the case back in Britain, which it obviously was. Rachel very kindly offered to contact our families and allowed me to make a call to my father and stepmother, who were still in France. Needless to say, it was one of the hardest phone calls I have ever had to make. They were horrified and ever so upset. My mother, who was in England, was distraught and almost unable to comprehend what had happened. It broke my heart. Nicky also called her parents, who were devastated and beside themselves with worry.
Rachel left behind a pen, writing paper, envelopes and some books so we could write letters and read a bit to pass the time. We had to get food brought in every day because Interpol provided nothing. The embassy took care of this and sent their driver in daily with a good quantity of food.
When Rachel had gone, I looked at the list of lawyers in some depth and chose a firm who seemed reputable and spoke English. I contacted the embassy and asked if they could make the necessary arrangements. A couple of days later they arrived in full regalia. Two lawyers, nice suits, secretaries, assistants, the works, which drew more than a little attention from the other prisoners.
Both Nicky and I were let out to discuss the case with the lawyers and sign a form stating that they were to act on our behalf. They assured me that they would be able to secure the minimum sentence of four years or even get me released. Nicky, they said, should be no problem at all as she had only been in the country for six hours before being arrested and was obviously innocent. They asked that we give them some time to review the evidence and to see what they could work out. They informed me that they had to return a week later in order to take the first statement from me, something demanded by Ecuadorian law. With that they were gone. The question of fees had been left open as they wanted to assess what they were going to be taking on before quoting me a figure.
One of the prisoners had managed to smuggle in a mobile phone. With the help of Hassan interpreting, I could pay the guy who owned it and use the phone. I was able to call a few of my contacts whose numbers I had memorised and from them get other people’s numbers. In this way, I warned everybody that I had run into trouble and for them all to clear up whatever they were doing and lie low. I now know that those few phone calls saved a number people from having to spend many years locked up.
Around this time, a young Colombian guy, Juan, and his mother were led in and placed in respective cells. They were charged with possessing a tiny amount of cocaine, less than ten grams. He was absolutely distraught that his mother had been detained because of a crime he had committed. After they had been there a few days his lawyer turned up. They all went off and had a meeting to discuss their case. His mother could go free if he paid the sum of $90, but he was penniless and became extremely upset at the prospect of his mother being imprisoned. I had been watching and listening and I decided to intervene. That amount to me was nothing – especially considering what I was spending on lawyers – but it could buy the freedom of this woman. I tapped him on the shoulder and held out the $90 and gestured that he should take it. He couldn’t believe it and broke down in tears, thanking me over and over again. Within a few hours his mother was free and Juan was happy. It felt good to have helped out.
As there were no mattresses provided, I had been sleeping on my clothes. The Arabs explained that I could have a mattress brought in if I paid the police a little money. I thought they were joking, but no. This was Ecuador after all. I arranged with my family for a fair chunk of money to be sent over via the Foreign Office to the embassy in Quito. This was free of charge and would mean I could start things moving with the case and also be able to buy Nicky and me a mattress each. This was a huge relief for our aching backs, arms and legs. The first night, it felt like the softest, deepest, most luxurious mattress ever made, even though it was only a thin piece of foam.
Nicky collapsed after the fourth or fifth day, having drunk the tap water and contracted a virus. The local ambulance service had had to come in and put her on a drip for a few hours, which seemed to sort her out. I felt like it was me who had poisoned her. In a way, I had.
Nicky and I were able to speak to each other twenty-four hours a day because our holding cells faced one another across the small internal courtyard. We supported each other through these tough days and it made an enormous difference to both of us just being able to communicate and give each other the occasional hug. We would spend our days trying to work out our defence case or just chatting to one another to while away the hours. I could see the strain beginning to show on her face as the days passed slowly.
A week went by without much happening and then the lawyers arrived. We were led to an office area and the interview started. On the charge sheet from the police it appeared that they had listed a quantity of just 7.8 grams of cocaine. I couldn’t believe it at first, but then thought that perhaps this was all the surface residue they had managed to accumulate and they had not found the cocaine that was impregnated in the rubber groundsheet. This meant that no drugs were visible to the naked eye, even if you had cut the rubber, as the cocaine was now a piece of rubber itself. Hiding the cocaine this way so it could pass through the X-ray scanner and fool the sniffer dogs was almost foolproof – unless an informant directed the authorities to it. This must have been what had happened in my case. I hadn’t disclosed that I k
new anything about any drugs at this point, so the police had no idea how much was concealed. I questioned the lawyer on this and he confirmed that yes, they had only charged me over this small amount. I was ecstatic. I knew this sort of quantity was a minor offence so we should be out of there very soon without them ever knowing about the two kilograms in the groundsheet.
I proceeded with the statement that Nicky and I had rehearsed over and over again through the gates of our cells, across the gloomy courtyard. I stuck to the story that I knew nothing of any drugs. I was merely there for a holiday, and a friend had asked me to bring this tent back as a favour having left it behind on a previous trip. This kind of excuse the police must have heard countless times (in fact probably every time). The difference in this case was the fact that they didn’t have blocks of cocaine or bags of powder as evidence – a big advantage, or so I thought.
After the statements were concluded, I broached the subject of the lawyers’ fees. The one with whom I had been communicating the most, as he spoke English, sat there in his fancy suit looking nervous and began toying with the ring on his pinkie finger.
‘How much are you going to charge me?’ His beady little eyes darted around the room and the ring-twisting became more furious.
‘$250,000 and we guarantee a sentence of no more than four years, out after two and you will be held in the best prison with all the big mafiosi.’
I stood up slowly and focused my gaze on the man squirming in front of me.
‘You are joking, aren’t you? I can get a better lawyer cheaper in London. You’re insane. I’m afraid there is no way I’m paying that amount. It’s completely out of the question.’
The lawyers left, promising to consult their partners and try to bring the price down. As I was led back through the narrow corridors of the Interpol station I still couldn’t believe what I had heard.
The Arabs all found it highly amusing. Hassan said, ‘They are thieves, robbers, they want to steal your money.’
It kept them entertained for at least two days. Hassan then sat me down and explained that here in Ecuador the lawyers were the biggest thieves of all and frequently robbed people of huge sums of money having promised them all manner of fantastic unrealities. Hassan had a very good lawyer who was representing not only him but a few of the others. She was local and well-connected. Being well-connected was everything here: it was who you knew or had access to that kept you out of prison. You didn’t even need a proper qualification to call yourself a lawyer. Anyone could get away with this as long as they had contacts in the judicial system. Bribery, Hassan explained, was the norm here – pay the police, pay the judges, pay whoever you needed to in order to get out. Hassan kindly offered to introduce me to the lawyer, whose name was Eva. She was due to visit him in the next couple of days to discuss their case. He promised me she would take a fraction of the money and do the job properly. I asked how much and he said 20, maybe 30, thousand dollars. That sounded more like it. I would be quite prepared to give her extra if she did a good job and got me a short sentence. Still uppermost in my mind was the fact that they thought it was only 7.8 grams. My God, they might even return the tent! That would be hilarious. In the end, though, the joke was to be on me.
CHAPTER FOUR
WE COME TO A FULL STOP
FOR ABOUT ANOTHER week I sat in the grim Interpol cells trying to convince myself that the police had missed their chance. They were only charging me with 7.8 grams, as confirmed by the high-flying lawyers. Nicky, who would have grasped at any straw, seized this one with eagerness and held on tight. We started to believe we would be released in a week or so, maybe a bit longer in my case as I would take the blame.
Rachel, the vice consul from the embassy, dropped in to see if we were OK and not being waterboarded or tortured as most of the locals were. I brought up the subject of the charges with her and slowly, almost mournfully, she corrected me. ‘No, no, I’m very sorry Pieter but you are definitely charged with 7.8 kilograms, not grams.’
It felt as if she had stuck an ice-cold blade in my stomach and then twisted it. I knew full well it was only 2 kilos of cocaine that had gone into the groundsheet, so what the hell? I showed her the paperwork, where it read 7.875 grams of cocaine. I mean it actually said GRAMS not bloody kilos. There was a decimal point, a distinct black dot, separating the 7 from the 8. The vice consul looked at me with a very sorrowful expression and explained that I was charged with 7,875 grams, which equates to 7.8kg. In Britain, we would place a comma when writing 7,875. In Ecuador, it turned out, they use a full stop instead.
I couldn’t believe it. The game was up, so I explained to Rachel there was no way it was nearly eight kilos; I knew it was a lot, lot less. Her answer shocked me. In Ecuador if the drugs are impregnated in something they will weigh the entire object in which they are contained. In this case, of course, it was a bloody tent – poles, pegs and all. Well, in that case I would ask them to extract the drugs in order to establish exactly how much was there and hope they messed up in the process. I was told they wouldn’t do this, though I could make an application to the judge requesting that the drugs be extracted at my own cost.
I was led back to the cells and asked everyone to give me some space. I explained the mistake of a decimal point to the Arabs, who thought it amusing but also consoled me. What the hell had those lawyers been talking about when they confirmed it was 7.8 grams? Surely they should know? Rather worrying to think the people representing me, who held my destiny in their clammy hands, didn’t even know this. What other mistakes might they make? I knew I had to get rid of them, which is exactly what I did. Fuck! What next? Nicky’s straw snapped and so did she when I told her that we were going nowhere fast. Deep down I knew it had been an outside chance of getting away with it, but that didn’t stop it being crushingly disappointing.
Hassan’s lawyer Eva was young – I guessed mid to late twenties – very well presented, friendly and attractive. I imagined all these attributes probably assisted when in negotiations with the judges. Eva spoke not a word of English apart from to say hello and I at this point spoke very little Spanish, so Hassan offered to interpret and we got down to discussing the case. Eva didn’t mince her words and one of the first things she ever said to me, which I’ll never forget was, ‘It would be easier to get you freed from a murder charge than a drugs case.’ The problem, she explained, was los gringos, the hated Americans, in particular the Drug Enforcement Agency, who at this time operated in Ecuador. When the Americans said jump, the Ecuadorian government jumped, high and with enthusiasm, in return for cash, arms and protection.
Apparently, the American government in its war on drugs paid the Ecuadorians anything from $5,000 for every capture and prosecution of traffickers and mules, and up to $10,000 if they were heading stateside to the land of the not so free. Added to this, in my case there was the extra problem of pressure from the British police and government, who wanted my head on a block for the case in Britain; I was wanted for conspiracy to import over 85 kilograms of cocaine over a period of two years with three small laboratories processing it. With so many eyes watching my case it was going to be hard to carry out any negotiations with the prosecution or judges – in other words to bribe them. I explained to Eva the British police were all over this and that they may well ask for my extradition back to Britain. She was unworried by this. What happened in Ecuador stayed in Ecuador. Like Las Vegas, I guess. Although in this case it was me who would be staying.
According to Eva, the sentences had categories, which began at eight years for mules, went up to 12 years for the owner of the drugs or the boss, and then 16 years for more serious cases, and 25 years for the very large cases and bosses of cartels. It wouldn’t make any difference if it was 1kg or 1 ton, they treated you alike. In the end it really just came down to money and how much you were prepared to pay for your freedom. On that note, we discussed how much Eva wanted for her services and we agreed on $25,000 for her fees for both Nicky and me, excluding any ex
tras i.e. bribes, paperwork and costs. We agreed I should pay part up front and the rest in instalments as I saw results.
At this point, Eva wasn’t sure just how much I might have to spend in the way of bribes in order to either get us out of this hell completely or negotiate minimal sentences. She asked to be given some time to go away and read the papers so she could work out exactly what was going on and the best way in which to deal with it. She recommended that we stick to our current story that we had no idea there were any drugs present in the bag. Eva was very optimistic that she would be able to secure Nicky’s release, but that it would take a few months for the process to play out. We signed the contract giving Eva access to the papers regarding our case.
When Eva went that day, she left both Nicky and me with hope in our hearts and feeling more optimistic about our futures. I thanked Hassan over and over, and promised that I would assist him and his brother if they needed help. He was modest as ever and made no big deal about it all, so we sat down on my new mattress on the concrete bunk and cracked some boiled eggs and ate them with salt, pepper and cucumber to celebrate.
I informed the embassy in Quito that I had changed lawyers from the ones on their recommended list to Eva. I gave them her details and asked them to make contact and instructed them to pay her $8,000 from the money my family had transferred over via the Foreign Office in London. Rachel explained that she had received an invoice from the first law firm. I had asked Eva roughly how much I should pay them and she had made it clear that I should pay no more than $500. I was shocked when Rachel told me they were demanding $8,000 just for sitting in on an interview and two meetings. I immediately told her I was not going to be paying this and they would be lucky if they received anything now.
El Infierno Page 3