take this long to decide?’ she said, crossing her legs and squeezing her toned brown calves together.
‘I don’t want to make a mistake’, I replied.
‘There is no right or wrong. You choose, is all good here.’
‘Yes’, I said softly, gazing unblinkingly at her.
‘I don’t think I’ve got anything to lose.’
***
November 1990
They took Franz or Heinz from the apartment block to the central jail in Cali. Franz or Heinz did not speak Spanish, but, if he had done, he would have listened carefully whilst a list of charges was read out to him and he was asked if he had a lawyer.
‘ Abogado ?’ said a diminutive guard, dressed in the regulation green.
‘Frankel.’
‘ No tiene abogado? ’
‘My name is Frankel. You will contact the German embassy, please.’
The guard ticked ‘no’ in the box on the form that identified whether the individual charged had a lawyer – an abogado . Another guard pushed Franz or Heinz towards a small doorway with the butt of his rifle.
‘ Vamos!!! ’
Franz or Heinz took one look through the doorway. Through it he could see a room tiled in turquoise and a nurse sitting patiently, staring at him. He decided for whatever reason that he didn’t like the look of where he was being guided, he panicked and then clumsily tried to grab the rifle. It was his second big mistake of the day because the weight of the butt when applied with great force against his jaw – which it then was, by another diminutive green-clad guard – had the dual effect of fracturing it and rendering him unconscious.
When Franz or Heinz awoke he was lying in a hospital bed, or at least it looked to him like a hospital bed other than the fact that he realized, when he went to scratch his nose, that his hands were chained to the metal rails alongside him. There were three others in the room with him, only one of whom looked like a doctor. They looked down at him with what looked to him like curiosity.
‘ You have only yourself to blame’, said Suares, the tallest of the three, in good English.
‘ You speak English? It was a set-up, you know? I go to apartment. This man, he call, he say to bring money…’ Franz or Heinz’s voice trailed off. Even he could tell that it was difficult to deny he had attempted to buy two kilos of cocaine.
‘ Twelve years. I hope you do not have a wife and children.’
‘ I must speak to German embassy.’
‘ The embassy is in Bogota. You, Herr Frankel, are not in Bogota.’
‘ I am entitled to a telephone call.’
‘ This is not Hollywood, Herr Frankel, this is Colombia. You are entitled to nothing unless I say so. We found high traces of cocaine in your blood. We have photographic evidence of your attempt to buy two kilos. You handed over five thousand dollars. We have the money.’
‘ Yes. But this is not legal. This is not legal. In Germany – ‘
‘ You are unlikely to see Germany again, Herr Frankel.’
Franz or Heinz watched as the doctor and the shorter man left by the door at the end. He was left with the taller man, in a military-style uniform, the one who could speak English. Suares pulled up a stool and sat down next to the head of the bed.
‘ Let me explain to you’, said Suares softly, ‘what it is like for a German in a Colombian jail, for a man who does not speak Spanish.’
Franz or Heinz gulped. He was suddenly very, very thirsty.
‘ What is it like?’
‘ First, you will be detained for six months awaiting trial. You will be sent to jail either here or in Cartagena. You will be detained in a cell with three others. These men will be Colombians and they will probably be extremely poor. They will also be poorly-educated and at least one, if not all of them, will have a tendency to physical violence. Are you visualizing this, Herr Frankel?’
Franz or Heinz nodded, tightlipped. The water could wait. He felt deadened, somehow and he could feel his jaw starting to throb.
‘ Then I will continue. If you survive the
‘I don’t want to make a mistake’, I replied.
‘There is no right or wrong. You choose, is all good here.’
‘Yes’, I said softly, gazing unblinkingly at her.
‘I don’t think I’ve got anything to lose.’
***
November 1990
They took Franz or Heinz from the apartment block to the central jail in Cali. Franz or Heinz did not speak Spanish, but, if he had done, he would have listened carefully whilst a list of charges was read out to him and he was asked if he had a lawyer.
‘ Abogado ?’ said a diminutive guard, dressed in the regulation green.
‘Frankel.’
‘ No tiene abogado? ’
‘My name is Frankel. You will contact the German embassy, please.’
The guard ticked ‘no’ in the box on the form that identified whether the individual charged had a lawyer – an abogado . Another guard pushed Franz or Heinz towards a small doorway with the butt of his rifle.
‘ Vamos!!! ’
Franz or Heinz took one look through the doorway. Through it he could see a room tiled in turquoise and a nurse sitting patiently, staring at him. He decided for whatever reason that he didn’t like the look of where he was being guided, he panicked and then clumsily tried to grab the rifle. It was his second big mistake of the day because the weight of the butt when applied with great force against his jaw – which it then was, by another diminutive green-clad guard – had the dual effect of fracturing it and rendering him unconscious.
When Franz or Heinz awoke he was lying in a hospital bed, or at least it looked to him like a hospital bed other than the fact that he realized, when he went to scratch his nose, that his hands were chained to the metal rails alongside him. There were three others in the room with him, only one of whom looked like a doctor. They looked down at him with what looked to him like curiosity.
‘ You have only yourself to blame’, said Suares, the tallest of the three, in good English.
‘ You speak English? It was a set-up, you know? I go to apartment. This man, he call, he say to bring money…’ Franz or Heinz’s voice trailed off. Even he could tell that it was difficult to deny he had attempted to buy two kilos of cocaine.
‘ Twelve years. I hope you do not have a wife and children.’
‘ I must speak to German embassy.’
‘ The embassy is in Bogota. You, Herr Frankel, are not in Bogota.’
‘ I am entitled to a telephone call.’
‘ This is not Hollywood, Herr Frankel, this is Colombia. You are entitled to nothing unless I say so. We found high traces of cocaine in your blood. We have photographic evidence of your attempt to buy two kilos. You handed over five thousand dollars. We have the money.’
‘ Yes. But this is not legal. This is not legal. In Germany – ‘
‘ You are unlikely to see Germany again, Herr Frankel.’
Franz or Heinz watched as the doctor and the shorter man left by the door at the end. He was left with the taller man, in a military-style uniform, the one who could speak English. Suares pulled up a stool and sat down next to the head of the bed.
‘ Let me explain to you’, said Suares softly, ‘what it is like for a German in a Colombian jail, for a man who does not speak Spanish.’
Franz or Heinz gulped. He was suddenly very, very thirsty.
‘ What is it like?’
‘ First, you will be detained for six months awaiting trial. You will be sent to jail either here or in Cartagena. You will be detained in a cell with three others. These men will be Colombians and they will probably be extremely poor. They will also be poorly-educated and at least one, if not all of them, will have a tendency to physical violence. Are you visualizing this, Herr Frankel?’
Franz or Heinz nodded, tightlipped. The water could wait. He felt deadened, somehow and he could feel his jaw starting to throb.
‘ Then I will continue. If you survive the
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