📸 Photo

MARCHING POWDER

lookout confirmed the rumour by sprinting through the corridors, knocking on all the doors and whispering, ‘Requisa! ¡Requisa!’

Roberto panicked. He quickly stubbed out the joint he was smoking and clumsily refolded his packets of cocaine and marijuana. When he stood up, he knocked over his chair and this made him panic even more. He looked frantically around the room for somewhere to hide the packets. However, he was in such a state of alarm that he completely forgot the advice I’d given him about spraying deodorant to disguise the smell and taking your time to find a good hiding spot.

‘OK, Thomas. I see you later, bueno?’ he said, depositing the two small packages in my open hand and racing for the door.

I was so sleepy that I hardly had time to realise what he had done before the police arrived at my room. They didn’t even have to knock: in his rush to get back to his room, Roberto opened the door for them. When he saw the Devil Major right there in front of him, he let out a small cry of surprise. The major, who had his fist in the air about to knock, looked at him, equally surprised.

‘Scusi,’ said Roberto, forgetting his Spanish. He slipped under the Devil Major’s arm, past the policemen and down the stairs. The major raised his eyebrows and watched him go. My fingers closed slowly around the packages. It was too late to do anything with them.

‘A very good evening to you, Señor McFadden,’ said the Devil Major, turning his attention back to me. The Devil Major always spoke very politely in front of his men, because he wanted them to think he was from the Bolivian upper class. He always wore a thick overcoat with stars on the shoulders to make himself look important. I already knew from what he did to Samir in La Grulla that he wasn’t someone you wanted to catch you doing something illegal. He preferred to punish people rather than accept bribes.

‘Good evening, major,’ I answered from my bed, trying to be as respectful as I could.

‘With your permission,’ he said, bowing to me and wiping his feet before stepping onto my carpet. ‘I take it that none of your wives are visiting you this evening?’ he enquired courteously.

‘No, major. I was just going to bed,’ I said, sitting up on my mattress and trying desperately to think of what to do with the drugs. Luckily, the Devil Major was too busy being sarcastic to notice the look of panic on my face.