KING PIN (Chapt 15)
I`ve never met a person, that I could call evill. I`ve met some with violent psychosis, but that was temporary and hardly descriptive of the personality in general. Being a devil`s advocate I could allmost allways see things from anothers perspective, no mater how screwed up it seemed. But then again,
I`ve never met a mass murderer or a sadist. Untill now.
Arriving at the new place, after getting unpacked and settling a bit, I went out of my cell to mingle. Inmates from my block were sitting around a young guy, telling some story and seemingly not noticing me taking a place near by. After a few minutes listening I felt physically sick- the guy was amongst other, telling in detail about recently torturing another fellow with electric shocks, after tying him down. The worst part was his laughter- high pitched, almost hysterical, following every sickening sentence. Others, around him were smiling and nodding. It was going to be difficult to make friends here, but then I heard a joyfull ”privet!*”. A slightly older Russian guy was standing beside me with a wide grin, streaching his palm for a handshake. It was a relief.
After chatting about everything possible,, we were to talk some business. He gave me his son`s number. The kid was a major supplier of amphetamines and was looking to do some business in Sweden. I was to meet him at a harbour to pick up the ammounts of the drug that would easily lend me a life sentence or a bullet in the head from the competition, since the stuff they were shipping in was to set a new standart in purity. I knew what he was talking about- the new Russian speed was rather more like cokain with as few side effects, sich as loss of apetite and sleep deprivation. The root by wich the stuff was to be brought in was impecable and the exchange of goods and money was very well thought through.
For a while I forgot that I was not a criminal, not by nature, but at the time I didn`t see it as anything more devious than bringing in a shipment of liquire and sertainly less vicious than distributing nicotine, weapons or some pharmaseuticals. I wasn`t even thinking of the potentiall millions to be made, rather was excited to be involved with such high quality goods without having to work with the classic gun toing maffia types, but instead a couple of nice guys from the motherland.
A week later at the prison`s work shop I`ve noticed a guy, looking like the KFC curnal, with a white beard and a kind face. I went to talk to him. Turned out that he was newly arrived, also Russian and even from the same part of Moscow as me. Things turned even more surreal, when he told me that he was a chemistry proffesor. By the things that he told me, I had not a shadow of a doubt: the guy was the real deal and had the knowledge and the means of mass producing anything within the amphetamines family, be it MDMA (ecstasy), 2CB (psychedelic amphetamine), crystal meth (crank) or some stuff I`ve never even heard of, which ment that it was potentially still not illegal. What he wanted in return was a way to stay in the country and some percentage of the business. Both were easily doable, concidering my new passport connections. The last prison was opening doors to potentially being the number one amphetamine distributor in Scandinavia. Money were to be absolutely insane, risk minimal, since we discussed the ways of distributing, which would keep us virtually invisible. Besides- the really big fish gets big by not being caught and I was about to become the biggest fish, skipping all the growing pains. And once again, I loved that my new Russian friends absolutely lacked the usuall criminal bone- there was no violence or weapons,
just smart and civilised busnessmenship.
My trial was in a few weeks. I was accused of posession with the intent to supply within the prison walls, which made it alot more serious. The inmates I spoke with, promiced me atleast half a year extra. The one gramm of pot, that I had, was weighted in together with the tobacco, showing it to be 16 gramms of “cannabis mass”, plus the pill or two of the tranquilisers were simply classified as narcotics, or a class A drugs. I could easily double my sentence. I left any hope for a decent defence and was preparing to be my own lawyer, after 2 visiting policemen explained to me, that when it comes to my 1,2 gramms of hash- such was the law:
had it been a gramm of amphetamine, hidden in 2 kilos of flour, it would be counted as 2 kilos of low quality drug, when the quality plays no role.
“Your honour, I realise the gravity of what I`ve done, but please for the justice`s sake note, that the pills I had in my posession are in the same group as the other tranquilisers, available to anyone with anxiety disorder…” I went on to explain about hasch amount being equivalent of two joints and me buying it to the contrary of celling as the procecution tried to convince the judge. Incredibly it worked- I got just few weeks added to my sentence. Back at the prison the inmates turned suspicious at me, thinking that I must be a snitch, cause noone gets off that easy.
Yes- once again I got off easy. It seemed to be the story of my life. The rest of my time inside I could have done standing on one foot. Great future awaited me. All I needed was to stay sober. Not even the occasionall heroine I was bying inside was to be acceptable if I was to be successifull dealer. I had to get a job or continue the studies in order to lead a proper double life, being a criminal. In my own mind however I was not a criminal at all… I was after all the kindest guy I knew.
______________________________
* privet - “hi!” in Russian
I`ve never met a mass murderer or a sadist. Untill now.
Arriving at the new place, after getting unpacked and settling a bit, I went out of my cell to mingle. Inmates from my block were sitting around a young guy, telling some story and seemingly not noticing me taking a place near by. After a few minutes listening I felt physically sick- the guy was amongst other, telling in detail about recently torturing another fellow with electric shocks, after tying him down. The worst part was his laughter- high pitched, almost hysterical, following every sickening sentence. Others, around him were smiling and nodding. It was going to be difficult to make friends here, but then I heard a joyfull ”privet!*”. A slightly older Russian guy was standing beside me with a wide grin, streaching his palm for a handshake. It was a relief.
After chatting about everything possible,, we were to talk some business. He gave me his son`s number. The kid was a major supplier of amphetamines and was looking to do some business in Sweden. I was to meet him at a harbour to pick up the ammounts of the drug that would easily lend me a life sentence or a bullet in the head from the competition, since the stuff they were shipping in was to set a new standart in purity. I knew what he was talking about- the new Russian speed was rather more like cokain with as few side effects, sich as loss of apetite and sleep deprivation. The root by wich the stuff was to be brought in was impecable and the exchange of goods and money was very well thought through.
For a while I forgot that I was not a criminal, not by nature, but at the time I didn`t see it as anything more devious than bringing in a shipment of liquire and sertainly less vicious than distributing nicotine, weapons or some pharmaseuticals. I wasn`t even thinking of the potentiall millions to be made, rather was excited to be involved with such high quality goods without having to work with the classic gun toing maffia types, but instead a couple of nice guys from the motherland.
A week later at the prison`s work shop I`ve noticed a guy, looking like the KFC curnal, with a white beard and a kind face. I went to talk to him. Turned out that he was newly arrived, also Russian and even from the same part of Moscow as me. Things turned even more surreal, when he told me that he was a chemistry proffesor. By the things that he told me, I had not a shadow of a doubt: the guy was the real deal and had the knowledge and the means of mass producing anything within the amphetamines family, be it MDMA (ecstasy), 2CB (psychedelic amphetamine), crystal meth (crank) or some stuff I`ve never even heard of, which ment that it was potentially still not illegal. What he wanted in return was a way to stay in the country and some percentage of the business. Both were easily doable, concidering my new passport connections. The last prison was opening doors to potentially being the number one amphetamine distributor in Scandinavia. Money were to be absolutely insane, risk minimal, since we discussed the ways of distributing, which would keep us virtually invisible. Besides- the really big fish gets big by not being caught and I was about to become the biggest fish, skipping all the growing pains. And once again, I loved that my new Russian friends absolutely lacked the usuall criminal bone- there was no violence or weapons,
just smart and civilised busnessmenship.
My trial was in a few weeks. I was accused of posession with the intent to supply within the prison walls, which made it alot more serious. The inmates I spoke with, promiced me atleast half a year extra. The one gramm of pot, that I had, was weighted in together with the tobacco, showing it to be 16 gramms of “cannabis mass”, plus the pill or two of the tranquilisers were simply classified as narcotics, or a class A drugs. I could easily double my sentence. I left any hope for a decent defence and was preparing to be my own lawyer, after 2 visiting policemen explained to me, that when it comes to my 1,2 gramms of hash- such was the law:
had it been a gramm of amphetamine, hidden in 2 kilos of flour, it would be counted as 2 kilos of low quality drug, when the quality plays no role.
“Your honour, I realise the gravity of what I`ve done, but please for the justice`s sake note, that the pills I had in my posession are in the same group as the other tranquilisers, available to anyone with anxiety disorder…” I went on to explain about hasch amount being equivalent of two joints and me buying it to the contrary of celling as the procecution tried to convince the judge. Incredibly it worked- I got just few weeks added to my sentence. Back at the prison the inmates turned suspicious at me, thinking that I must be a snitch, cause noone gets off that easy.
Yes- once again I got off easy. It seemed to be the story of my life. The rest of my time inside I could have done standing on one foot. Great future awaited me. All I needed was to stay sober. Not even the occasionall heroine I was bying inside was to be acceptable if I was to be successifull dealer. I had to get a job or continue the studies in order to lead a proper double life, being a criminal. In my own mind however I was not a criminal at all… I was after all the kindest guy I knew.
______________________________
* privet - “hi!” in Russian
Posted by in 21:55:25
