Black Coke

by James Grenton

  ‘What do we do now?’ Dex said as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  ‘The doctor tells me production’s ramping up. Five tons this week.’

  ‘What about the reverend? How are we going to ship it out?’

  ‘Don’t you worry about that. I’m working on other avenues.

  ‘And Kershner?’

  ‘We keep hunting.’

  Amonite’s phone buzzed. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Amonite Victor?’ It was one of the new American mercenaries she’d hired for the Front. Amonite couldn’t remember his name.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘The cops have just got in touch. Alberto’s been found dead.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The new fat dude. Started last week. Used to work for the Colombian government. Found dead in a hotel room. Someone shot him. Had his pants down.’

  ‘So he got wasted by some pimp,’ Amonite said. ‘What do I care?’

  ‘You asked us to track that activist woman’s phone.’

  ‘Get to the point.’

  ‘She was in the same hotel, at the same time.’

  ‘Lucia Carlisla? He was screwing her?’ Amonite sneered. ‘Crafty bitch.’

  ‘The receptionist reckons another Colombian guy was in there too. He called the police and they found Alberto stone cold dead on the floor.’

  ‘Find them.’

  ‘Shall I call the ASI?’

  ‘No way. They’re too fucking incompetent.’

  ‘There was something else. She received a call on her mobile an hour or so ago. It was from one of our guys. Henry Caxton.’

  ‘Put a tracer on his phone.’ Amonite hung up and turned to Dex. ‘Who’s Henry Caxton?’

  Dex jabbed his thumb as they drove past one of the corpses engulfed by flames.

  ‘It’s him.’

  Chapter 61

  Bogotá, Colombia

  14 April 2011

  Nathan spotted Lucia just as she rounded the corner. She was glancing furtively around and heading straight for the cafe they’d set on the phone as the rendez-vous point. Heads turned as she walked by, but she seemed oblivious. Either she was good at ignoring them, or she didn’t have a clue just how attractive she was. Nathan sank further into the darkened doorway. He tapped Lucia’s shoulder just as she walked past. She spun round to face him. Her eyes softened.

  ‘Nathan, you look terrible.’

  Nathan touched his hair. It was caked and hard. His face was covered in grime.

  She took a step away. ‘You stink.’

  Nathan scanned the pedestrians going by. Some were giving them curious glances. Further down, cops in black uniforms had blocked one end of the street. They were checking people’s ID papers.

  ‘I’ll explain later.’ Nathan grabbed Lucia’s arm and led her the other way. ‘Where’s Manuel?’

  ‘Gone to meet a contact. We need to hook up with him.’

  ‘Is the hotel safe?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Let’s find another one.’

  They hopped onto the transmilenio bus. The crowd shuffled away as Nathan pushed through. A woman pulled her son from a seat and moved to the side.

  Nathan sat down. ‘I guess the stench must be pretty bad.’

  ‘Can’t you smell it?’ Lucia said, leaving an empty seat between them.

  ‘Nope.’

  She tutted. Nathan caught the boy’s eye and winked. The boy giggled. His mother tugged him away.

  Two ticket inspectors climbed on board at the front of the bus. Nathan leaned his head against the window and pretended to be asleep. Last thing he needed was hassle with the authorities.

  He could hear the inspectors asking for tickets. They were moving closer towards him. He tucked his chin into his neck and turned his face away.

  ‘Boleto, por favor.’

  One of the ticket inspectors prodded his shoulder. Nathan slumped forward as though drunk. The inspector pushed him backwards. Nathan clenched his fists and opened his eyes a slit. The inspector was a small man with a neat moustache and a frown. An argument erupted in rapid-fire Spanish. Lucia was saying something to the inspector about ‘leaving the poor man alone’. The inspector shook Nathan’s shoulder. Nathan tensed, ready to jump out as soon as they reached the next stop.

  Coins jingled. Lucia said something about taking the money. The other inspector shouted at her. The one with the moustache cupped Nathan’s chin. Just as he tried to drag Nathan to his feet, a ding resounded and the doors slid open. Nathan leapt up, shoving the inspector with the moustache into his colleague. Nathan dived through the open doors, Lucia right behind him. There was shouting and yelling. He caught a glimpse of the ticket inspectors glaring at them as the transmilenio eased off.

  ‘People don’t like drop-outs in Bogotá,’ Lucia said as they marched down the pavement.

  ‘I know. I’ve seen what they do to them.’

  ‘We need to get you cleaned up. You’re attracting too much attention.’

  They stopped outside a three star hotel. It had pillars at the front and a double door with a gold-painted frame. A red carpet led up some steps into the lobby. A hotel guard in green combats and black boots stood to one side, clutching a sawn-off shotgun.

  ‘Wait here,’ Lucia said. ‘I’ll come to get you. Don’t get into any more trouble.’

  Nathan leaned against the wall. The hotel guard eyed him up and down. Pedestrians weaved in and out of the cars. Some cast him suspicious glances. Mopeds roared past. Police sirens echoed in the distance.

  The city had a sinister feel to it. Nathan felt sorry for all the drop-outs, tramps and drug-addicts who lived on the street. He was experiencing first hand the rejection they felt on a daily basis.

  Lucia came through the revolving doors. ‘We’re done. Follow me.’

  They headed through the marble floored lobby to a row of elevators. Five minutes later, they were in a twin bedroom on the third floor, with a window overlooking the street. There was a small wooden desk in a corner with a desk lamp with a dark blue lampshade. Photos of Bogotá with the mountains in the background hung on the wall. The floor was made of large white tiles.

  Lucia went straight to the bathroom and threw a towel to Nathan.

  ‘In the shower. Now.’

  Nathan hesitated. Lucia’s eyes glimmered. She turned away.

  ‘I’ll get you some clothes,’ she said as she left the room.

  Fifteen minutes later, Nathan emerged from the shower and wrapped a towel round his waist. He checked his body in the mirror, ignoring the beard and long hair that stared back at him. His chest and sides had large patches of blue and were painfully tender where he’d been beaten. It would take a good few days to get better. His fingernails were still full of grime, so he rubbed them with soap under running water.

  He went into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, his head swimming with the events of the past few days. He was fortunate to have escaped, but now Amonite would have half the Front searching for him. He lay back on the bed, arms spread out. An image of Caitlin swept through his mind. Her throat was slit. Blood was everywhere.

  I’ll get them Caitlin. I’ll make them pay.

  He drifted into a half-sleep full of weird dreams, vaguely aware of the patter of rain drops on the window, when the bedroom door opened. Lucia was standing in the doorway, staring at him. Her dark hair was wet and clung to her cheeks, framing her round face.

  ‘There you go.’ She dumped a plastic bag on the bed next to him. ‘Straight from the Gap.’

  Nathan rolled onto his front and rubbed his eyes. A hint of perfume hung in the air. Lucia had another bag of clothes and kept on glancing at him. She looked distraught.

  ‘You okay?’ he said as he pulled the bag towards him.

  ‘We need to find Manuel.’

  ‘Does he know we’re here?’

  ‘How would he?’

  Nathan slipped into a pair of jeans. ‘Do you have his number?’

  ‘I d
umped my cell phone, as you told me.’

  ‘Something wrong?’ Nathan said as he pulled on a white t-shirt.

  Lucia didn’t reply.

  Nathan shrugged. ‘Let’s go find him.’

  They headed outdoors. Now that Nathan was clean and dressed properly, nobody spared him a second glance. He spotted a payphone across the road. Lucia handed him some coins. He dialled Manuel’s number.

  ‘Sí?’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Nathan! I was worried.’

  Nathan looked up and down the street. A lit-up sign caught his eye. ‘Josepe’s restaurant. On Calle Ciudad. Meet you there in an hour.’

  ‘Is Lucia with you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ve got good news.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when we meet.’

  Chapter 62

  Bogotá, Colombia

  14 April 2011

  Nathan and Lucia went back to the hotel to wait. Nathan sat at the desk and clasped his hands to stop them trembling. He could barely believe he’d got out of the sewers alive. An image of the overdosed junkie flashed through his mind. Then one of the burning junkie. Their miserable lives had ended tragically, devastated by the Front.

  Lucia dropped onto the bed and leaned against the wall. She seemed to look less distraught than earlier. She kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

  ‘Do you think we’ll succeed?’ she said after a while.

  ‘In what?’

  ‘To bring down the Front?’

  Nathan looked down at his fingers. There was still some dirt under his nails. He tried not to let himself get discouraged by the scale of the task ahead of them. Just three of them against a major drugs cartel.

  ‘We have no choice,’ he said. ‘If we don’t try, who else will?’

  ‘We could ask the DEA.’

  ‘Do you really think they’d help?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  Nathan had worked with the Drug Enforcement Administration in the past. In typical American style, they tended to favour the all guns blazing approach. Not surprisingly, their results were well below their objectives. In fact, the more money they poured into anti-drugs work, the worst it seemed to get.

  ‘So why do you work for Soca?’ Lucia said.

  ‘I don’t anymore.’

  ‘Why did you? Do you really believe the drugs war is worth it?’

  Nathan shrugged.

  ‘Because it’s not,’ Lucia continued, her neck going flushed. ‘Quite the opposite. Everything that people associate with drugs, whether that’s HIV, crime, violence, prison or death, is caused by prohibition, not the other way round.’

  Nathan said nothing. He didn’t feel like getting into a big debate. Deep down, he agreed with her, although he didn’t want to say it openly. It would be like admitting that the past few years at Soca had been a waste of time.

  ‘Don’t you agree?’ she said.

  ‘What’s the alternative?’

  ‘Legalisation.’

  ‘That would be anarchy. Everyone would be taking drugs.’

  ‘No they wouldn’t. What do you drink?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘What alcohol do you like to drink?’

  ‘Beer.’

  ‘No hard stuff?’

  ‘Don’t like it.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Lucia spread her hands. ‘It’s the same with drugs. Not everyone likes them. I tried cocaine once. Made me jittery. Stopped me sleeping. Never did it again.’

  Nathan nodded.

  ‘So you see?’ Lucia said, moving to the edge of the bed. ‘It’s all overinflated hype. The more we repress, the worst it gets. Anyway, you wouldn’t just proclaim all drugs legal for anyone to buy from anywhere. That would indeed be anarchy.’

  ‘How would you do it?’

  ‘We’d move away from criminalising drugs to seeing them as a health and social problem. At the moment, the main controllers of drugs are groups like Front 154 and corrupt police officers, who are making billions. If we legalised drugs, pharmacists could provide them, along with advice on harm reduction. They’d be produced in sterile conditions by reputable manufacturers rather than in dirty underground labs in the jungle. You could even tax the sale of drugs and use the money for healthcare.’

  ‘We’re light years from that ever happening.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’ Lucia’s eyes were bright and alive. ‘The legalisation movement is stronger than most people realise.’

  Nathan glanced at his watch. They still had half an hour before meeting Manuel. He began to plan his next moves. Most large drug groups like the Front had a base or a series of bases where they hid equipment, stocks of drugs and cash. He needed to find it.

  But how?

  A thought crossed his mind. Had George taken up his position as British ambassador in Colombia? If so, could he be a route into the Front?

  Nathan looked up. Lucia was studying him.

  ‘You never answered my question,’ she said.

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Why did you join Soca?’

  ‘For the same reason most of my colleagues did. To make a difference.’

  ‘You think it has?’

  ‘I have no idea, and I’d rather not think about it at the moment.’ He went to the window. ‘Let’s keep an eye out. Manuel will be arriving any minute.’

  Chapter 63

  Bogotá, Colombia

  14 April 2011

  ‘He’s clean,’ Nathan said as they looked down the street at Josepe’s restaurant. Manuel had entered five minutes before. He was sitting at a table to the side, next to a window that was street side. Behind him, the restaurant was half full with families and young couples out for an evening dinner. Waiters slalomed between tables, plates full of food balanced on their hands and forearms. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a bright glow.

  ‘I’ll go see him,’ Lucia said.

  ‘We’ll both go.’

  Minutes later, they were sitting next to Manuel, who had a newspaper under his arm. Nathan glanced around, taking note of all the exits. Nobody was looking at them.

  ‘So?’ he said.

  Manuel put the newspaper on the table. ‘Tell me what happened to you.’

  Nathan summarised his experience in the sewers.

  Manuel nodded. ‘The whole ASI is after you. They’ve even got the police searching. They’re saying you’re a terrorist.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘Informers.’

  ‘What else do they say?’

  ‘Black Coke production’s increasing. And the Front’s launched a big onslaught.’ Manuel unfolded the newspaper and handed it to Nathan. ‘Read this.’

  The front page article was about a spate of bomb blasts throughout Bogotá, Medellín and Cali over the past two days. Cars packed with up to 100 kilogrammes of ammonium nitrate and pipettes of propane gas were exploding next to government buildings. Fifteen people had died and twenty-six were injured. A large colour photo showed a woman clutching her child in her arms, covered in blood, with ambulances flashing blue in the background. There was a smaller photo, of a big building half reduced to rubble. Nathan immediately recognised it.

  ‘El Tiempo too?’ he said.

  ‘Last night. Most of the building was destroyed.’

  ‘You think Amonite’s behind this?’

  ‘We know she is.’ Manuel rubbed his good eye. ‘Her and the ASI. They’re trying to destabilise the country.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Nathan closed the newspaper and pushed it to one side. The situation was getting worse by the day.

  ‘So where’s the good news in all this?’ he said.

  Manuel pulled a small map of Bogotá out of his back pocket and spread it on the table. It was a typical tourist map. He flattened out the creases with the palms of his hands.

  ‘This was on the body of that man Lucia invited back
to her room.’ He pointed to a spot that was marked with a small X and had writing scribbled in the margin. ‘Guess what this is here?’