THE CALL of DUTY (Chapt. 16)
I was free again. I went straight to the nearest liquire shop from the prison and treated myself to 12 bottles of the finest hard spirit, all the size of my thumb. It was summer and I was feeling something close to being content if not happy by the time I`ve reached the centrall station. I felt like I could just sit on a bench indefinetly, absorbing the sunshine with a dumb grin, yet there were pressing matter of reistablishing connections, old friendships.
I had allmost no money left and had to find a new place to live, while keeping myself clean. The year was 2004. I had some supervision time left, having to visit the “criminal ward” now and then to show my proper ways, while living in a communal house, where I had to leave the urin samples and breatheliser tests. It was still possible to sneak in an occasionall drink and some synthetic heroine, which did not show on the tests, however I didn`t feel the need to get high.
Perhaps I never had- it was just my occupation, something i did. Plans for the future were unclear- a part of me even concidered a “normal” life, although the idea of having a job with a tie, a wife and kids was still completely foreign to me.
I suspected that I`ve stopped maturing in meny ways, the day I started getting high. I`ve noticed the same tread with meny of my dopehead friends- there was
a certain charming childishness and simplicity. If one wants to get into the kingdom of heaven, one should be like a child- the idea from the bible was somewhat comforting, besides I was not about to get into the main stream rat race, not that anyone was waiting for me there anyway.
Yet I was waiting for the day when they were going to contact me from the baltic amphetamine-producing land- just days were left. I didn`t know how to feel, rather thinking that it is quite unlikely that anything was going to happen.
Contacts made in prison were reminicent of the friendship bonds tied while being drunk- you sober up and all that is left is a slight anxiety.
The phone started ringing at 10 in the morning- the call was from abroad. The only person it could be was the amphetamine guy. It must`ve ment that a new shipment was ready and waiting to be dellivered. Signals were persistant- 5… 10..
15…
I realised that there and then that I was about make it or break it- depending on whether I answered or not I was about to decide my entire future. Becoming a multi millioner and probably fearing for once life or the uncertain future in poverty? I couldn`t imagine how it feels to be filthy rich-perhaps the feeling of power compensates the worrysome nature of the business? Perhaps I would not even have to do any dirty work after a couple of shipments, having people doing the job- I was going to simply collect the money as I allready did at much smaller scale with the stolen computers, concidering myself a PC Robin Hood. Probably that is how it was going to be- I was certainly not to be the one dealing on the street level. Just making a few calls to decide the place where I was to pick up the suit case with cash, leaving the coordinates, where the dope load was hidden. If it was to be done as planned- I would never have to handle the drugs myself, acting as a link in between, It was a safe system and I had the exclusive rights, not having to worry about anyone going behind my back, since my delivery guy had no connections in Sweden whatsoever and the guys who were to buy would be interested in keeping me happy.
I had allmost no money left and had to find a new place to live, while keeping myself clean. The year was 2004. I had some supervision time left, having to visit the “criminal ward” now and then to show my proper ways, while living in a communal house, where I had to leave the urin samples and breatheliser tests. It was still possible to sneak in an occasionall drink and some synthetic heroine, which did not show on the tests, however I didn`t feel the need to get high.
Perhaps I never had- it was just my occupation, something i did. Plans for the future were unclear- a part of me even concidered a “normal” life, although the idea of having a job with a tie, a wife and kids was still completely foreign to me.
I suspected that I`ve stopped maturing in meny ways, the day I started getting high. I`ve noticed the same tread with meny of my dopehead friends- there was
a certain charming childishness and simplicity. If one wants to get into the kingdom of heaven, one should be like a child- the idea from the bible was somewhat comforting, besides I was not about to get into the main stream rat race, not that anyone was waiting for me there anyway.
Yet I was waiting for the day when they were going to contact me from the baltic amphetamine-producing land- just days were left. I didn`t know how to feel, rather thinking that it is quite unlikely that anything was going to happen.
Contacts made in prison were reminicent of the friendship bonds tied while being drunk- you sober up and all that is left is a slight anxiety.
The phone started ringing at 10 in the morning- the call was from abroad. The only person it could be was the amphetamine guy. It must`ve ment that a new shipment was ready and waiting to be dellivered. Signals were persistant- 5… 10..
15…
I realised that there and then that I was about make it or break it- depending on whether I answered or not I was about to decide my entire future. Becoming a multi millioner and probably fearing for once life or the uncertain future in poverty? I couldn`t imagine how it feels to be filthy rich-perhaps the feeling of power compensates the worrysome nature of the business? Perhaps I would not even have to do any dirty work after a couple of shipments, having people doing the job- I was going to simply collect the money as I allready did at much smaller scale with the stolen computers, concidering myself a PC Robin Hood. Probably that is how it was going to be- I was certainly not to be the one dealing on the street level. Just making a few calls to decide the place where I was to pick up the suit case with cash, leaving the coordinates, where the dope load was hidden. If it was to be done as planned- I would never have to handle the drugs myself, acting as a link in between, It was a safe system and I had the exclusive rights, not having to worry about anyone going behind my back, since my delivery guy had no connections in Sweden whatsoever and the guys who were to buy would be interested in keeping me happy.
I stared at the dile, feeling strangely numb. The phone stopped ringing after a while. I picked it up, scrolled through the phone list, found the KFC professor`s number and pressed delete. As for my Baltic friend`s son- he never called again, having enough to do as it is. The bridges were burnt- there was no turning back. I was to become a proper… normal… whatever.
