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MARCHING POWDER

I became desperate. I could give him all the profits. Colonel Lanza continued writing his report while his men continued searching. But they couldn't find the merchandise. It was too well hidden. The only way the colonel knew there was anything was because I had told him in the first place.

When the policemen produced knives and looked like they were about to cut my suitcase open, I got angry and told the colonel that it was very expensive. I would call my embassy and he would have to pay for any damage caused. I pretended not to care about the other two cases. He hesitated and then ordered his men to search everything all over again.

Eventually, the colonel nodded his head and gave the order to start breaking open the suitcase that had had my clothes in it. Outside, the plane engines increased to a deafening pitch. The policemen completely destroyed the lining of my suitcase, but found nothing. The colonel looked worried. He hesitated before nodding to his men to do the same to the other two cases. The noise of the plane engines gradually faded as the plane ferried out onto the tarmac for take-off.

'¡Mira! Aquí está. ¡Mira!' called one of the police excitedly. He had broken one of the spines and was holding up a package. The search had taken over half an hour. He licked the knife and pushed it through the plastic, then tasted the tip.

'Sí, sí. Positivo.' His colleague took the knife to test for himself and then confirmed the result to the colonel. In the distance, I heard the distinctive sound of the plane taking off. I finally accepted that I was busted.

I knew that the colonel must have been pleased to have finally found the merchandise. However, he didn't allow himself even so much as a smile. He sat there writing his report with the packets of cocaine on the desk in front of him. I sat in my chair, staring at him with absolute hatred. Any remaining chance that he would let me go became more and more remote with each additional phone call he made and every additional policeman who came to the door to look at me.

'Mario?' Colonel Lanza looked up at me. His face gradually began to show his good mood. 'Can I go to the toilet, please?'

'Yes. You can,' he nodded to the guard who had been stationed behind my chair to escort me to the bathroom.

The guard led me down the corridor. They still hadn't handcuffed

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