12

THE GOVERNOR

My lawyers made contact with the judge. Unfortunately, he had said the case would definitely have to go to trial, but for ten thousand dollars I could be found innocent. I agreed to pay the money, although it would take a few weeks to get that amount together. My lawyers said that would be acceptable and they issued me with another bill. They promised to have me out by Christmas.

With the frequent visits from my lawyers, my new room, my new friends, a new stereo system and these small parties we were having, everyone knew that I now had money. And no one was shy about asking me for a loan. Other inmates asked to borrow ten bolivianos here and there, and the police were always asking for a colaboración for their wives, who were sick in hospital, or for their children, who couldn’t afford school books. None of the money was ever for them personally. I don’t know whether that meant the payments were technically not bribes or whether they thought it made them seem like nicer people. The amounts weren’t large, but they asked every time I saw them. I didn’t feel that I could refuse them until Ricardo gave me an invaluable piece of advice: ‘Don’t waste time with these small guys. You’ve got to control the head and the tail will follow automatically.’

I had to get the boss of the whole prison – the governor – on side. I did that, and more; we actually became good friends. Every now and then he would call me to his office to practise his English. He spoke with a terrible accent but he had mastered one expression, which he repeated to me every time we met: ‘Life is expensive.’

I couldn’t disagree. Everything cost money and life was expensive, especially for those around the governor. Whenever I visited, I would take him money to help out with various expenses: the petrol for his wife’s car, the household electricity bill and school uniforms for his children.

The governor required a higher bribe than the other officers, but because it wasn’t every day, it was far cheaper in the end. In return, I was given certain privileges: I could do whatever I wanted, and if ever I got in trouble with the lower-ranking police or needed something, I could call the governor in his office or visit him in the administration block on very short notice.

It was during one of these initial visits that the governor suggested I help other inmates to learn English. There was already an education program in place, but it didn’t work efficiently because the teachers, who came from outside, went on strike when they weren’t paid.

‘They are too expensive,’ the governor told me confidentially.

That’s how I got my very first job at San Pedro. Well, it wasn’t a proper job because I didn’t get paid, but it was something to occupy my time. It also made me feel good to do something positive for the other inmates. The classes were slow because it was the first time I had ever taught anything and my Spanish was very basic, but I had a lot of fun explaining everything with gestures and by drawing pictures on the blackboard. I also took some Spanish and Chemistry classes, managing to come first in some of the tests.

The close friendship I had with the governor created a lot of jealousy among the other inmates. Anyone who had money could bribe the governor, but not everyone could go and visit him or call him whenever they wanted. I didn’t mind the jealousy, though. With such a powerful ally, I was now fully protected; the prisoners steered clear of me and the guards also left me alone. What I never expected was that, many months later, the governor would come to rely on me for more than money and friendship.

By the time the following incident occurred, I was well established in the prison, but I still rarely left my cell at night. That was when all the borrachos and serious base-smokers really let loose, looking for fights and stirring up trouble.

This particular night I had just finished smoking a joint and was turning the light off to watch television when there was a knock at my door. I was too stoned to answer it, so I turned the sound off using the remote control and kept perfectly still. Whoever it was knocked again.

Everyone in the section knew my rule: I never opened the door unless the visitor announced his name, so I guessed it would probably be Jack, or someone like him who couldn’t sleep, trying to trick me into letting him in. But if it was Jack, there was no way I was opening that door because then I might be tempted to take some coke. He always did that to me, right when I wanted to go to bed.

‘Just one line, Thomas,’ he would insist. ‘Then I’ll let you rest.’ And he never went away until I agreed. But my time in San Pedro prison had taught me that there is no such thing as just one line of cocaine if you can get your hands on more. And the last thing I needed that night was him keeping me up until dawn again.

However, when there was another round of more insistent knocking, I realised it wasn’t Jack. It was way too loud. Jack would always knock really fast like there was a major emergency, but also extremely softly because he was paranoid about anyone knowing he was there. Sometimes he knocked so quietly that even I couldn’t hear him and then he would get angry when he had to wait for ten paranoid minutes, tapping the door lightly with his fingers, until I realised there was someone there.

But if it wasn’t Jack, who was it? Whoever it was knew that I was there and definitely wasn’t going away.

‘Who is it?’ I finally called out from my bed.

‘It’s me,’ replied a female voice.

‘And me, too,’ came another female voice.

That could only mean trouble. The section gates had been locked, which meant that my visitors had to be wives from the section. The only reason the wives visited other prisoners without their husbands was if they were having problems at home. The fact that there wasn’t one but two women at my door meant that it was probably even bigger trouble. I didn’t like it at all.

‘Who?’ I demanded again and got the same response, although this time I thought I heard laughter. It certainly didn’t sound like they were upset. ‘Yes, but what are your names?’

‘Marcela …’

‘And Maria-Teresa,’ they giggled. I didn’t know them, and my first thought was that someone was playing a trick on me.

Putting the packet of ganja in my pocket, I opened the door to be confronted by two young, attractive Bolivian women I had never seen before. The taller one was wearing red lipstick, a thick pullover of the same colour and chunky, gold-coloured earrings. The shorter one, who wore less makeup, was far prettier. She had on a full-length overcoat and I knew there was something hidden underneath because only one of her hands was showing through the sleeves.

‘Hola, Thomas. ¿Cómo estás?’ they chanted in unison. I could have sworn I didn’t know them, but they were acting as though we were old friends. They both kissed me on the cheek and brushed passed me into my room without being asked. They didn’t even bother looking around; they just sat down at the table as if they had been there many times before. I looked at them more closely. Maybe I was too stoned, but I was sure I hadn’t met them before. I didn’t know what to say, though, just in case I had.

‘We brought you a little present, didn’t we, Maria?’ said Marcela, the taller one, producing a bottle of whisky from beneath her overcoat. Maria-Teresa took the bottle and held it up to me and pouted like a little girl.

‘Well, aren’t you going to get some glasses for us?’ she asked, pretending to be upset. I went into the kitchen and did as I was told, all the while trying to work out what was going on.

‘We’re friends of Colonel Montesinos,’ Marcela announced when I came back with two glasses. ‘He should be here soon.’

‘He sent us around as the advance party,’ giggled Maria-Teresa. ‘He said you wouldn’t mind entertaining us for a while.’

That might explain things. Everyone knew that the governor liked to play around with women. Maybe he needed somewhere private to go where his wife wouldn’t find out? That was possible, but I was still suspicious that my friends were playing a joke on me, or setting some kind of trap. And if it was a trap, I wasn’t going to fall into it easily.

‘Suit yourself,’ Marcela snapped when I refused a sip of the whisky she was holding out to me. ‘More for me, then!’ She drained the glass and her friend giggled again.

Even though it was almost freezing, the girls insisted that they have ice in their whisky, so I went to get some from the freezer, glad of the opportunity to be out of their way. Then there was a firm knock at the door.

‘Who is it?’ I called out from the kitchen. I had hardly got the question out before Marcela leaned back in her chair and unlatched the door and the governor of the prison, Colonel Montesinos, came into my room. He was wearing his usual shiny black shoes and green uniform, but he was wearing a casual sweater over the top, which made him look a bit younger and not so serious.

I stood to shake his hand and greeted him in the most formal manner, ‘How are you, my governor?’ We were friends but I always showed him complete respect, calling him by his full title, especially in the presence of other people.

‘Hola, Thomas. Bien,’ he answered casually, greeting each of the girls with a kiss. ‘I see you’ve met the girls. What’s the latest news from San Pedro, my friend? You look hungover … mucha fiesta or what?’ he asked, sitting down and pouring himself a whisky in one of the girls’ glasses.

The governor seemed perfectly relaxed – like this was a completely normal situation. I was the exact opposite: perfectly nervous. He had visited my room before and we had always been very friendly, but never this late and never this friendly. He was still a colonel in the Bolivian police and the most powerful person in the whole prison and I didn’t know what he wanted with me, turning up at my room like that with two beautiful women so late at night. However, I couldn’t say anything, especially in front of his guests. I hoped he would explain, but he didn’t. Instead, he offered me a glass of whisky.

‘No, thank you, my governor.’

‘Don’t like whisky, hey Thomas? Not even Black Label. Well, I’m sure you’re accustomed to finer things. We should obtain something a little stronger perhaps?’ He raised his eyebrows at me knowingly and added, ‘I want the best stuff you can find.’

At first, I wasn’t sure if I had understood him correctly. I looked at him blankly, wondering if he really meant what I thought he meant. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me because I was stoned. But then he repeated his request and there was no doubt.

‘Bring me five grams,’ he commanded, pulling out a wad of cash from his top pocket and peeling off a few notes. ‘How much will five grams cost?’

Marcela stared at the bundle of cash and whistled, but I stared straight at the governor’s face, completely stunned. Suddenly everything seemed surreal; I was stoned, two strange, beautiful Bolivian women were in my prison cell drinking Black Label whisky, and the highest-ranking official in the jail was asking me to buy cocaine for him.

‘Well?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows again, but I didn’t know what to do. I was almost lost for words.

‘Five grams of what, my governor?’ I managed to stammer, pretending not to know what he was talking about. I honestly wished there was a black hole in the floor next to me. I wanted to step into it and just disappear.

‘Coca, what else? Pollo. Don’t play stupid with me,’ he said gruffly, fixing me with a heavy stare. He even knew the code name for cocaine.

‘But … you’re not joking with me, my governor, are you?’ I asked as politely as possible. I suspected a trap and there was no way I wanted to fall into it, but I didn’t want to offend him either. He was the head of the whole prison. ‘I honestly don’t know about this stuff.’

‘Come on, Thomas,’ he patted me on the shoulder and smiled. ‘The coke here in the prison is better than anywhere else in the whole of Bolivia. And if the governor of the prison can’t get some coke, then who can?’

Both the girls burst out laughing and the governor joined in, adding, ‘Don’t look so confused, my friend. Tell me. How much is a gram these days? Still twenty bolivianos or has the price gone up again because of those bastard gringos and their crop fumigation?’

This made them laugh even more. Then I started laughing too, finally realising that it had all been a joke. And once we were all laughing, no one could stop, especially me – I was laughing the loudest of anyone, mainly from relief. In public, the governor pretended to be very strict and I had forgotten that when no one else was there, he always joked around with me. I was so stoned that I had taken him seriously and fallen for it; he had had me completely convinced.

Then the laughter stopped just as quickly as it had begun and everything changed back in an instant. My mind had played another trick on me. The governor became serious again and held out the money to me, demanding that I take it. It was no joke – he really did want me to get him some cocaine. I tried to get out of it again without being rude, but he kept insisting.

‘Come on, Thomas, get me five grams. Of course you know where to get it. Come now, we’re all friends here.’ He pressed a pile of notes into my hand and opened the door, motioning me towards it.

‘But, my governor, I don’t know where to get any of that stuff. I don’t take it and I don’t know who does.’

He didn’t like me arguing with him in front of his friends. ‘Stop playing games and just get it!’ he snapped at me suddenly, and I had no choice but to obey. I took one last look at him to make sure he was really serious, then went out of my cell and Marcela closed the door behind me.

Outside, the air was cold and I hadn’t had time to put a jacket on, so I was even colder. All of a sudden I was no longer stoned. In fact, I was feeling remarkably sober.

I leaned back against the door, wondering what I should do. I needed to think fast, but I still couldn’t believe that any of this was actually happening. The governor wouldn’t have been risking his own reputation by being in a prisoner’s room with two young women and a bottle of whisky for nothing. Unless it was a very elaborate trap.

Yes! I decided it was a trap. They were taping everything I did in order to set me up and track down the source of cocaine in the section. I wouldn’t fall for it though; I would simply say that I couldn’t find any. I knocked on the door and the governor opened it immediately.

I felt like I had been outside for a long time, but in reality only a few seconds had passed. The governor was surprised that I had come back so quickly, and empty-handed. When he saw how worried I was, he came outside, leaving the door slightly open, and wanted to know what the problem was. I tried to explain once more that I didn’t take drugs and couldn’t get anything, but he looked me directly in the eyes and spoke sharply.

‘You’re not going to embarrass me in front of these girls, are you? I promised them a good time. Don’t disappoint me, Thomas,’ he commanded, patting me on the shoulder again. Then he gave me a short but strong squeeze on the bicep before going back inside and closing the door again, locking me out of my own room.

The governor was a man who rarely gave orders because he rarely needed to; he was used to having his will obeyed. However, this was an order, and there was no way out of it. Even if it was a trap, I now had to comply. So off I went, with the governor’s money in my hand, to buy five grams of cocaine.

As I walked through the section, I heard strange sounds and I stopped every now and then to look behind me and see if anyone was following, but there was no one around. Well, no one that I could see anyway. However, that didn’t prevent me from feeling that I was being watched.

Before I bought the stuff from my usual dealer, who we called Comandante, I knocked on three different doors and asked to borrow things from inmates who weren’t dealers. That way, if there was anyone following me, they would hopefully get thrown off the scent. And also, if Comandante got busted by the police, I would be able to prove to him that I was trying my best not to cooperate.

I bought the stuff, slipped it into my shirtsleeve, ready to drop it if anyone stopped me, then hurried back to my room. Footsteps echoed in the corridor behind me. I wasn’t sure if they were all mine, but I didn’t stop or turn around to check. I climbed the wooden ladder to my room and knocked to gain entry.

The governor opened the door once more and when I handed him the package I closed my eyes, expecting to get arrested on the spot but he only inspected it and then handed it back to me.

‘So. Is it good quality?’ he asked, closing the door.

‘I don’t know, my governor. I don’t take drugs.’

‘Oh. So you’ve never taken cocaine, Thomas?’ he asked sarcastically, showing off to the girls. ‘What are you in here for? Didn’t pay your parking fine?’ Maria-Teresa laughed as if this was the funniest thing she had ever heard. Then the governor became serious again. ‘Thomas. You make the lines, will you? I’m too lazy.’

Maybe the police wanted to catch me in the act; that way, I couldn’t deny it was mine. I pretended I didn’t know how to make lines, but Colonel Montesinos looked like he was losing his patience, so I did as I was told, cutting up some coke on the wooden table. However, I only made three lines so that they wouldn’t think I had any intention of taking any myself.

‘It looks good,’ he commented, ‘but we can’t be giving the señoritas just any old rubbish. So, you try it first, Thomas, and let me know if it’s good quality.’

When he said that, I was totally convinced that my friend, the governor, was setting me up. If the police caught me in my own room with five grams of cocaine, making lines on the table and actually sniffing it, there was no way I could deny a thing. But I refused to fall into their trap. They couldn’t force me to take cocaine and if this conversation was being taped, I wanted my disagreement – and the governor’s name – to be on record.

‘With all due respect, Colonel Montesinos, you and I are friends and I respect you a lot, but you must look at it from my point of view. I am an inmate here and you are asking me to take drugs in front of you. You are the governor of the whole prison. I could get in a lot of trouble for that. If you are serious, then would you please go first?’

I tried to phrase this as politely as possible, bowing my head as I spoke, so as not to offend him, but it didn’t work. The girls stared at me like I was crazy and the governor looked like he was ready to explode; however, not wanting to cause a scene in front of the company, he produced a note from his pocket and rolled it up, then bent forward over the table. Just as he was about to sniff one of the lines he stopped, sat back and said.

‘What’s this, Thomas? That’s not how you make lines. Here, give me the stuff. And why are there only three lines when there are four of us?’

The governor pulled out an American Express card and scraped the cocaine from my table onto a plastic CD cover, then added more from the bag. In a matter of seconds, he had four massive, perfectly parallel lines of cocaine laid out on the smooth surface of the CD case. Not even Jack could have made them better; you had to go to university for that.

The governor bent forward and took one of the lines, half in each nostril, like a true professional, then sat down in the chair for a minute with his head tilted back, as though he was concentrating.

‘Not bad. A bit too much acetone, maybe. But not bad, Thomas. Primera clase. Well done, my friend.’ He handed the note to one of the girls and the CD case went around and finally came to me. As I sniffed back my line, I kept an eye on the door, half-expecting it to be knocked down by a tactical response team and the two girls to pull out undercover police badges. But nothing happened. I finally relaxed and even allowed a little laugh to escape. It had all been in my imagination.

‘Thomas, you are acting very strangely tonight. What’s wrong, my friend?’

‘I’m just tired, I guess,’ I said.

The girls tipped back their whiskies and made a few trilling noises as the coke hit home. I sighed. The danger had passed, but it was still going to be a long and interesting night.