Part 36 (1/2)

In 1973, a new banking business was opened in Sydney by Frank Nugan and Michael Hand. Frank Nugan was an Australian playboy whose family fruit business was centred in Australia's marijuana-growing region. Michael Nand was a New York CIA agent. He was a former Green Beret who had partic.i.p.ated in the CIA's ma.s.s a.s.sa.s.sination Phoenix Program in Vietnam. He had been an employee of Air America, the CIA-owned airline responsible during the Nixon era for taking tons of opium from the Golden Triangle to lucrative markets. The declared source of the new bank's funds was money invested in real estate by American soldiers taking a break from slaughtering Vietnamese women and children.

In 1977, a branch was opened in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Its office had connecting doors with the DEA's. In no time the bank expanded its interests to include financing Las Vegas casino projects, handling some of the Shah of Iran's fortune, dubious international arms dealing, and laundering the proceeds of opium and heroin traffic. The governing body of the bank was peppered with high-ranking US bra.s.s.

In 1980, Frank Nugan was found dead. He had either been murdered or performed a suicide requiring the skills of a professional acrobat. Michael Hand disappeared. The bank collapsed. A large chunk of the cream of America's military personnel had lost their money. The US Senate investigated the whole matter. The CIA gave sworn testimony in secret. The investigation closed.

Carl had once been wrongly accused of a.s.sa.s.sinating Frank Nugan. The Sunday Times Sunday Times had reported that Lord Moynihan was linked to Nugan-Hand Ltd. had reported that Lord Moynihan was linked to Nugan-Hand Ltd.

This was great. I could throw in all the exciting stuff that juries love to hear. I could maybe even resurrect a part of my MI6 mythology. I was just a gentle pot smuggler, doing my business in various parts of the non-American world and keeping an eye open for anything really evil to tell my Oxford chums at MI6. I used Gerry Wills to land a load of has.h.i.+sh in Australia and used Jacobi and Sunde to launder the proceeds. Australian currency controls were unbelievably stiff. Jacobi knew CIA agents who held vast cash h.o.a.rds in the United States and would happily exchange it for cash within Australia's borders. We had ways of getting cash out of the United States, so we would take it from there and pay all concerned. No dope ever saw America. I had given a full report of the affair to my non-existent MI6 superiors, who were most interested in the details of CIA agents holding suitcases of dollars. In a desperate attempt to cover up, the CIA/DEA, with the help of the Australian police, turned to their Nugan-Hand banking a.s.sociate Lord Moynihan and asked him to help them set me up. They were keen to convince the world that the dope was purely an American scam which had not involved the CIA's Australian money-laundering activities.

I was convinced this Australian defence could work. It wasn't even as bizarre as the successful Mexican secret agent defence. But did American juries have a sense of humour?

In 1989 summer heat began to stifle Alcala-Meco. I religiously adhered to my daily yoga sessions, worked on my defence, smoked joints, and walked the patio patio with John Parry. Roger was working on an escape plan. My fight against extradition was now totally in the hands of Gustavo and the courts. A plethora of time-consuming issues was before the Audiencia Nacional's appeals division, the slowmoving Spanish Supreme Court, and the almost stationary Spanish Const.i.tutional Court. with John Parry. Roger was working on an escape plan. My fight against extradition was now totally in the hands of Gustavo and the courts. A plethora of time-consuming issues was before the Audiencia Nacional's appeals division, the slowmoving Spanish Supreme Court, and the almost stationary Spanish Const.i.tutional Court.

At the end of July, a forty-minute doc.u.mentary about me was shown on Spanish national television. It was sympathetic to my plight and was followed by dozens of letters from Spanish citizens offering everything from paying my legal fees to the best s.h.a.g I could ever imagine. They all expressed shame at the way the Spanish were giving me up to the Americans.

After the television programme, Judy and I were separately visited by Amber, Francesca, and Patrick. They knew this would be their last visit before Judy left for America, and the girls were very frightened. Patrick was happy but still hadn't spoken a word since our arrest a year ago. Amber and Francesca spent the whole visit sitting on my knee and sobbing.

'Will we see you here, Daddy, when Mummy's gone?'

'Of course, my loves. You'll probably come to see me every couple of months. We'll see each other soon enough.'

I was wrong. It took almost five heartbreaking years before I saw them again.

Jacques Canavaggio came up to me in the patio patio.

'Marco Polo, I cannot help you. I have been told by someone whose business it is to know that if any of my people say you were involved in my Lebanese load in the Costa Brava, the American pigs will extradite me for being part of your organisation. These DEA b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are crazy people.'

'I understand, Jacques. Please don't worry.'

'You always have a friend in Corsica, Marco Polo. Remember that.'

Jacques walked off. Darin Bufalino approached.

'Hi, Limey. What's happening?'

'I'm not a Limey,' I protested. 'I'm Welsh. You Yanks are all the same.'

'I'm no Yank. I'm half-Irish and half-Italian.'

'What's the difference?'

'You got me there, Limey. But listen. They're extraditing me to the good old US of A in a few days. Is there anything I can do for you over there? I'll be in prison, but I got connections, Howard, you know that.'

I had been worrying about keeping my Australian defence secret and had already resolved to send out via Gustavo all my research materials. I also wanted to lead the DEA to believe that I was going to try another, completely different defence, so that I could take them by surprise.

'Darin, would you be prepared to leak some information to the DEA? It would be false information. It would only hurt them and no one else, and it would really help me.'

'Hey, I don't doubt you, man. But if I did that, I'd be down on record as a snitch. That could seriously damage my career prospects. I'll do anything else to help, I promise.'

The criminal ethic was proving inconvenient. I had to think of another way. John Parry joined us. I explained the problem to him.

'It's easy, Howard. If they take you to America please G.o.d they don't but if they do, take your phoney defence notes with you. Those DEA b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are bound to grab them when you get to Florida. They'll photocopy the lot, give them back to you like nothing had happened, and think they've got one over on you. Then you can stick it right up them with your real defence.'

That would work.

Judy left. Just before she was taken on the plane at Madrid international airport, she was allowed to send me a telegram. 'Pray for me,' it said. I prayed and cried and heard the wails of my children.

Darin Bufalino was extradited to Boston. Other fellow-prisoners were extradited to various countries. Roger had requested them to write to him giving full details of the travel procedures they had to undergo. Some of the letters had arrived.

'Let me tell you something, boy. Escaping from that airport in Madrid is a piece of p.i.s.s. If I did it in Amsterdam, I'm d.a.m.n sure that with the help of the Good Lord I can do it here.'

'But, Roger, you'll have handcuffs on. You didn't in Amsterdam.'

'Hey, I had handcuffs on when I jumped out of the court in Palma. They don't mean s.h.i.+t to me. But that don't matter anyway because the cops take the handcuffs off at the departure lounge. I bet you ain't ever seen a guy with handcuffs on in a departure lounge or a plane. No siree you ain't. I'll just get on another plane. Maybe go straight to South Africa. I can't wait to hit that Madrid airport.'

Shortly after this conversation, Roger was extradited to Germany. He was driven all the way by car. As planned, he pleaded guilty and snitched on me and McCann. The German authorities gave him a seven-year sentence and housed him in a maximum-security prison in Lubeck.

On Friday October 31st, Gustavo came to see me. He was fl.u.s.tered and angry.

'Its incredible. Absolutely incredible. The Audiencia Nacional appeals court and the Const.i.tutional Court have dismissed our cases against extradition. The accion popular accion popular appeal has also been dismissed. Usually these cases take years to resolve. In your case they have acted almost immediately. It's completely without precedent.' appeal has also been dismissed. Usually these cases take years to resolve. In your case they have acted almost immediately. It's completely without precedent.'

'Do I have any chance left, Gustavo, or am I on my way to Miami?'

'The Supreme Court still has to rule. They shouldn't extradite you while that is pending. I have some other ideas which I will discuss with you on Monday. Just try to relax over the weekend.'

The next day, Sat.u.r.day, I worked on my false defence, the one to mislead the DEA. The papers relating to my real Australia defence and my detailed a.n.a.lysis of every item of the prosecution evidence had been given to Gustavo. I created the sort of phoney defence the authorities would believe to be mine: after I had worked for the Mexican Secret Service and been acquitted of any involvement in marijuana smuggling, MI6 posted me to the Khyber Pa.s.s. It was declared United States and United Kingdom policy to support the mujaheddin mujaheddin against the occupation of Afghanistan by the Soviet Union. Some financial aid was officially given, and covert encouragement was given to illegal fund-raising such as that resulting from the export of Afghan has.h.i.+sh. It was clear that the 1986 has.h.i.+sh load came from the against the occupation of Afghanistan by the Soviet Union. Some financial aid was officially given, and covert encouragement was given to illegal fund-raising such as that resulting from the export of Afghan has.h.i.+sh. It was clear that the 1986 has.h.i.+sh load came from the mujaheddin mujaheddin. The stamp on each slab said as much. It was clear that the 1984 American President Line load involved the CIA. I was not breaking American law. I was carrying out in Pakistan the work a.s.signed me by MI6 and the CIA, helping to rid the world of the Communist scourge. It was monstrous even to charge me.

In a file headed 'Try to use if possible', I put in newspaper reports on CIA hot money finding its way to the Afghan rebels, the IRA purchasing Stingers from the mujaheddin mujaheddin, the September 1986 hijack by the PLO of an American airliner on the runway of Karachi airport, mujaheddin mujaheddin bases in the Khyber Pa.s.s being used to train Arab and Filipino terrorists, and theories of who a.s.sa.s.sinated President Zia ul-Haq. For good measure, I also threw in some stoned nonsense about a Communist cell in Nepal controlling the world's has.h.i.+sh supply. bases in the Khyber Pa.s.s being used to train Arab and Filipino terrorists, and theories of who a.s.sa.s.sinated President Zia ul-Haq. For good measure, I also threw in some stoned nonsense about a Communist cell in Nepal controlling the world's has.h.i.+sh supply.

Just the sort of defence the DEA would expect.

I spent all of Sunday morning and most of the afternoon lying on my bed smoking joints. At four o'clock, when we were locked in to eat our meal, there was a polite knock on the cell door. It was one of the friendly young English-speaking funcionarios funcionarios. He called from the other side of the metal door.

'Marco Polo, pack up your things, if you please. You are leaving now. I will be back in twenty minutes when all the cells are opened. Please be ready then.'

The funcionario funcionario's footsteps receded. I went cold. I started to tremble. Shakily, I started to put my phoney defence notes and other possessions in a pillowcase.

'Did I hear that right, Howard?' asked John Parry from the next-door cell. 'If so, you'd better roll yourself a good strong joint of that Moroccan hash. It might be your last for a while. Don't worry. You'll be okay. Keep your chin up. Think of all them hamburgers and hot dogs. Beats this paella.'

I finished packing my bag, rolled a huge strong joint and put what has.h.i.+sh I had left in my underpants. I puffed away frantically. The cell doors opened. Has.h.i.+sh smoke and fumes billowed out and enveloped the funcionario funcionario. He burst out laughing and walked away. John Parry went running after him.

'Funcionario, funcionario, look at Marco Polo. He is smoking chocolate chocolate. You must bust him. He must do some time in prison here. You can't let him go to the United States.'

'No, no,' said the funcionario funcionario. 'Marco Polo can do what he likes. Only America will make him pay. I allow him to smoke the has.h.i.+sh. But he must hurry. Interpol is waiting.'

'I don't think that'll cause Marco Polo too much bother,' said John. 'He doesn't really like Interpol. And anyway, I have to carry his bag. I always used to carry his bag.'