Chapter 20

Where are you guys going’ Marco said, barely able to focus ahead of him, the lights a blur as he tried to steady himself in the back of Aldren´s Black BMW.

Before he could say anything he was alone, the two slamming doors propping him upright. Through the light drizzle on the window Marco could just see two figures approaching the car.

‘Get out of the car’ he thought he heard them say. He had taken his second pill of the night after waiting for the first to kick in. Then they had both kicked in and he was a wreck. When Aldren and some friend he had never met before arrived to drop off his supply, Marco had been slumped in the corner of the club, half asleep. They had taken one look at Marco and decided it was Safffer to get him out of the club. If he was caught with pills on him then he might be forced to reveal his source. They couldn’t take that risk.

Marco sat bolt upright, gasping for air. Immediately the smell of urine and vomit washed over his senses. Marco looked down at his shirt and then his jeans which were damp.

Alone in the cell, Marco tried to piece his thoughts together. Amidst the stench of the cell and the fear from his comedown, all Marco could think of were his parents. They still believed he was working in The Bistro ten hours a day, saving money and making friends. Living a simple life which they could be proud of. The last time he had spoken to his dad he had told Marco how brave he had been, travelling alone. How he felt so proud when he told his friends how his son was working and living in London. Now they would find out the truth. It would break their hearts. He hadn’t planned for things to get remotely as far as they had. He knew he should have been happy with supplying the odd pill to the friends and friends of friends who turned up at the flat each week. He had been making plenty of money. More money than he had ever made at The Bistro and all for about two nights work. And that’s where he should have stopped. But he had become greedy. If he could make three hundred quid a week for two nights work then why not make six hundred or more. Aldren had been the one who had encouraged him. When Dan had first introduced Marco to Aldren, he had warned him to be careful. He had told Marco to keep his distance and to keep away from the clubs. That Aldren was a ‘bad bugger’. Now it was clear why he had wanted Marco to sell in the clubs. The more Marco sold, the more Aldren made. He was probably making vastly more than Marco on every sale. And the clubs were such easy money. So long as he looked after the bouncers with a bit of a cut they left him alone and it was easy to slip the odd fake pill in to boost profits. If anyone complained the bouncers would make the problem go away.

Marco lay back down and started crying as quietly as he could. He forced his eyes shut, hoping somehow that he would go to sleep and the problem would go away.

‘Look Marco. You know why your´re here don’t you.’

Marco looked across the table at the two police officers, neither of whom could have been more than thirty years old. His heart was pounding. All he could think of were all the ridiculous good cop bad cop movies he had seen and that no matter what, he should say as little as possible. He knew that he was at the very least entitled to some legal representation.

‘I don’t know what’s going on here and I want to talk to a Lawyer.’

After a moment or two the silence was broken.

‘Look Marco. You’re in all sorts of trouble. We don’t have time for games.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Marco could here the lack of conviction in his voice and knew he wasn’t convincing anyone.

‘Listen Marco, you may or may not have noticed but this is a very serious situation you are in. We know exactly what you’ve been doing Marco, who you’ve been hanging out with , that you’ve been selling pills for the past three months, we know where you live, who you live with, which clubs you’ve been selling into ok so enough of the bullshit. Now we can call you a lawyer if you like but the way things stand at the moment Marco, even if he’s the worlds greatest lawyer which is hardly something a guy like you can afford, the facts remain. You were found in a stolen car of a known drug dealer with pills on you.
Marco started to panic. He had thought he would be ok because when he had called Aldren he had run out of pills. Perhaps they were bluffing.
‘What do you mean you found pills on me?’ Marco was struggling to understand how he could have had the pills on him. Unless Aldren or his friend had planted them on him when they left the car. There was no way of knowing for sure. He was so out of it at the time they could have done practically anything.

‘Marco, in the inside pocket of you jacket we found a bag containing five hundred pills ok. Marco right now we have enough evidence, more than enough evidence to convict you for possession of a class A substance with intent to deal. Now listen Marco. Just so that there is no confusion about this if you are convicted, and believe me we have an absolute mountain of evidence to show exactly what you’ve been up to in your spare time, if you are convicted you are looking at least seven years in prison. Just take a minute to think about that Marco. Seven years.

Marco felt as though he had had the wind knocked out of him. Seven years. He looked across the table at the two serious looking faces in front of him and before he could stop himself he threw up all over the floor beside him, just managing to turn his head in time to avoid the table.

He kept vomiting for what felt like an eternity, gasping for air, tears rolling down his cheeks. He had never considered the potential consequences of what he had been doing. In the beginning it hadn’t even felt as if he had been doing anything wrong. He had just been helping out a few mates in the flat and the usual crowd of hanger’s onners and earning himself a little money at the same time. And then he had started at the clubs. But by then it just felt like the same old thing. The clubs he hung out in felt like an extension of the flat. He generally saw the same faces. Of course he started dealing to people he didn’t know but It was like one big party all the time and after a while, just like it had in the flat, it just felt like a normal job. He was helping people have a good time. Nothing less, nothing more. That was the way he saw it. Seven years.

Again Marco could see his parents. The looks on their faces when they received a phone call telling them that the son they loved and who they were so proud of for being the first one in the family to leave Italy to find his way in the world had in fact been lying to them every week when he spoke to them and had in fact been dealing drugs and now they wouldn’t see him for seven years.

Look Marco, you’re not the usual kind of person we deal with ok. You look like a nice guy. For all we know you’ve probably just got yourself wound up in all of this by mistake or let things get out of control. That can happen. I bet you probably didn’t even consider that what you were doing was wrong am I right?’

Marco fought his urge to open his mouth and say yes your right and I’m sorry and please let me go home but instead sat quietly. He kept his head lowered, eyes squeezed shut worrying about what might happen next should he say anything.

‘The facts are simple Marco, we know your situation, we know what you’ve been doing and we know that you are going to be in a lot of trouble should we decide to prosecute. However, if you work with us Marco we might be able to make this whole little mess go away.

Marco’s heart stopped again, his senses having been sprung to life by the thought of reprieve. He looked up, unsure if he had heard them correctly.

‘It’s like this Marco. Like I said before, you’re not the kind of scum we’re used to dealing with and I don’t think you’re a bad guy. And if you work with us we can get you out of this and nobody needs to know a thing.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’

‘It’s quite simple Marco. We have a little job for you. You help us we’ll help you. Sounds fair wouldn’t you say.

‘What do I need to do?’
‘Right now? Nothing. Right now what you need to do is stand up, walk out of here with us and we will drop you home. Tomorrow I’m going to call you to arrange to pick you up so that we can go for a little drive and we can tell you all about what we want you to do for us ok. Now that sounds pretty fair wouldn’t you say Marco.

‘I guess so.’ Marco looked down at the table again fighting back the tears which were dying to be shed.

‘Now Marco, this is only going to work if we work together. As far as any of your friends are concerned you stayed with a friend last night or got lucky or went to a morning club or whatever. If you let anyone know what’s happened to you we will have no choice but to push for a conviction Marco. Do you understand that? And just remember Marco. Seven years. Let’s see, it says here that you are just going on twenty three, so all going well you will be out before your thirtieth birthday.

Ok I understand, I won’t tell anyone. I come home late all the time so no one will ask me any questions.’

‘Good. Now what we are going to do is get a patrol car ready and then we’ll come back and pick you up and drop you off near your house. Just remember Marco; we’re offering you the chance to avoid ruining your life and devastating your parents. I’ve seen what this kind of thing can do to families Marco and believe me, seeing a child go to prison nearly kills some parents. We’re going to give you the opportunity to avoid all that ok.

‘I understand. I just want to go home.’ The combination of fear, sleep deprivation and coming down from the cocktail of drugs from the night before was beginning to take it’s toll and without little ceremony the tears started rolling down his cheeks.

‘Good, we’ll be back shortly. You try to pull yourself together and we’ll be back in a bit’

As the door slammed locked Marco gave in to the emotions which had spent a night time building and wept loudly.