"Jacques, it"s hardly your fault. For my part I"m very pleased and honoured to meet you."
"The honour is mine."
The prisoners were still gathered around Roger when I was returned to the exercise yard. He was continuing his loud enquiries into escape possibilities and extolling the virtues of South Africa as a headquarters for marijuana farming. The weekend"s Barcelona and Mallorca newspapers were given to us to read. One of them, quoting a report in The Times The Times, stated that I had been moved from Palma prison because of fears that I might be released by a Mallorquian magistrate. Most accounts explained our secret transfer as being due to Roger"s attempt to bribe his way to freedom. All reported we were going to end up in Alcala-Meco prison just outside Madrid. A prisoner explained to us that this was bad news.
There are two men"s prisons in Madrid. The main one is Carabanchel, run, apparently, along the same lines as Modelo. You can get whatever you want. It houses a few thousand Spanish and foreign prisoners, including extradition cases. The other prison is called Alcala-Meco and is situated just outside the ancient university settlement of Alcala de Henares. It was recently built, with help from the Germans, to house ETA terrorists. The regime was Spartan.
The crowd thickened around both of us, and we were again inundated with small gifts of coffee, cigarettes, and food. Several funcionarios funcionarios then broke through the crowd and frog-marched Roger and me to a double cell on the third floor and locked us up. Roger became irate and tore the wash-basin and fittings from the wall. Water gushed into the cell. then broke through the crowd and frog-marched Roger and me to a double cell on the third floor and locked us up. Roger became irate and tore the wash-basin and fittings from the wall. Water gushed into the cell.
It took a good half-hour for the funcionarios funcionarios to unlock us, by which time there was a waterfall down several landings. With our possessions, we were taken to another cell block and locked up there until the next morning. I had stamps and writing materials. I took the opportunity to write to my parents, sister, and eldest daughter. They were heartbreaking letters to write. I imagined my parents" deep unhappiness and distress on hearing the news of the arrest of Judy and myself. They really thought I had straightened out completely. The current allegations would flatten them. My sister, at the age of thirty-seven and against medical advice, had become pregnant for the first time. She didn"t need this mess. Myfanwy was meant to have stayed with me in Palma from tomorrow until her sixteenth birthday later in August. She"d seen so little of her father. Now she would see me less, maybe much less. to unlock us, by which time there was a waterfall down several landings. With our possessions, we were taken to another cell block and locked up there until the next morning. I had stamps and writing materials. I took the opportunity to write to my parents, sister, and eldest daughter. They were heartbreaking letters to write. I imagined my parents" deep unhappiness and distress on hearing the news of the arrest of Judy and myself. They really thought I had straightened out completely. The current allegations would flatten them. My sister, at the age of thirty-seven and against medical advice, had become pregnant for the first time. She didn"t need this mess. Myfanwy was meant to have stayed with me in Palma from tomorrow until her sixteenth birthday later in August. She"d seen so little of her father. Now she would see me less, maybe much less.
Then we were moved to another cell. Then another. I lost count. We weren"t allowed to make telephone calls or speak to other prisoners. We didn"t even get our legally mandated daily outdoor exercise period.
On Tuesday, August 2nd, we were hastily unlocked, handcuffed, and firmly marched to a waiting prison van that resembled a tank. Parked in front of the vehicle was a Policia Nacional saloon car, stuffed full with uniformed cops and guns. Another was parked behind, and at least four police motorbikes were noisily revving up. Two police helicopters hovered above. Roger looked pessimistic.
Inside the van Jacques Canavaggio and two of his gang were waiting. A crew of three armed police van drivers were checking their handcuffs.
"We meet again, Marco Polo. I think we are travelling together to Madrid. One day we are drinking champagne; the next day we wear the handcuffs. It is the nature of our business. We will drink champagne again. That is sure."
When the drivers were satisfied we were all safely handcuffed, the procession left Barcelona and began the nine-hour journey to Madrid. By noon, the five of us were feeling as if we were trapped in a sardine can on fire. We yelled and screamed for a break, some cool, fresh air, something to eat, and some cold water. The prison van and escorts pulled into a service station. The doors were opened, and we felt a welcome breeze. Roger looked everywhere. There was nowhere sensible for him to run.
"Podemos comer? Tenemos hambre."
We were hungry all right. The drivers bought us a selection of bocadillos bocadillos.
"G.o.d, I could murder a beer," said Roger.
"We could ask," suggested Jacques Canavaggio.
We pleaded with the police to get us some cans of beer. To our surprise they relented and purchased a case. The eight of us, five top-profile prisoners and three armed police drivers, opened cans of beers and had an amiable conversation on a number of topics while a veritable commando force of hovering helicopter pilots and other armed escorts patiently waited. Things like that happen in Spain. They could never happen in England or America.
Somewhere near Madrid, we turned off the autopista autopista. We drove on hilly roads through a few exquisite Spanish villages. Then the landscape suddenly changed. It was eerie, bare, and exposed. We saw a sign for Torrejon, a huge American airbase, before turning off on to a road leading to the ugliest prison I had ever seen, surrounded by gun towers, high-rise barbed wire, and elevated perimeter walkways. After stopping at innumerable check-points, we piled out of the van to have our handcuffs removed by a reception funcionario funcionario. He was very cordial.
"Ah! El Marco Polo de las drogas. Bienvenido a Alcala-Meco. Conoces a Jorge Ochoa? Es mi amigo."
"I know Jorge Ochoa," said Roger, before I was given a chance to answer the funcionario funcionario. "The son of a b.i.t.c.h still owes me ten million dollars. He was in this prison? I thought they only kept terrorists here."
Jorge Ochoa was the son of Fabio Ochoa, a Colombian cattle-breeder, who began exporting cocaine to the United States during the mid-1970s. Jorge transformed his father"s family business into a multi-million-dollar cocaine corporation but did not come to the DEA"s attention until 1977, when sixty pounds of cocaine, allegedly his, were busted at Miami airport.
In November 1981, the Colombia guerrilla movement M-19 (Movimiento 19 de Abril) kidnapped Jorge"s sister Marta. In response, Jorge, his father, and others formed MAS (Muerte a Secuestradores), a vigilante organisation devoted to killing kidnappers. MAS were very successful and killed dozens of M-19 members. Marta Ochoa was released.
MAS had unintentionally brought together and united under a common purpose cocaine exporters who until then had competed with each other for chunks of the world markets. Jorge Ochoa, Carlos Lehder, and Pablo Escobar formed an alliance that became known as the Medellin Cartel. Shortly afterwards, Roger began working for Ochoa as a pilot. Roger felt he"d been badly cheated by Ochoa on their last deal.
During 1984, following the murder of Colombia"s pro-American Minister of Justice and under intense pressure from the United States Government, Colombian President Betancur tried to rid his country of cocaine exporters by threatening them with extradition to America. Jorge Ochoa and other Medellin Cartel leaders were given refuge in Panama by President Manuel Noriega. Together with Gilberto "The Chess Player" Rodriguez, who was then the leader of the all-powerful Cali Cartel, Ochoa travelled from Panama to Madrid. On the basis of a US extradition request, Spanish authorities arrested both of them in November 1984.
Ochoa avoided extradition by persuading the relevant authorities in Colombia to charge him and seek his extradition from Spain. The US had charged him with importing cocaine. Colombia charged him with exporting the same cocaine. The charges were essentially identical. If two countries request a person"s extradition for similar offences and one of the countries is that person"s country of citizenship, that country"s request will be given preference. Spain had little choice but to deny the US"s extradition request and, in 1986, extradited Ochoa to Colombia, where he walked out of prison and remains free.
The reception funcionario funcionario explained to me and Roger that although Alcala-Meco housed plenty of Basque separatists, it was by no means a prison exclusively for terrorists. The prison had housed not only Ochoa and Rodriguez but also Gaetano "Don Tanino" Badalamenti, the Sicilian Mafia boss, who was extradited from Spain to America on the basis of running the Pizza Connection, a nation-wide heroin distribution ring. (The explained to me and Roger that although Alcala-Meco housed plenty of Basque separatists, it was by no means a prison exclusively for terrorists. The prison had housed not only Ochoa and Rodriguez but also Gaetano "Don Tanino" Badalamenti, the Sicilian Mafia boss, who was extradited from Spain to America on the basis of running the Pizza Connection, a nation-wide heroin distribution ring. (The funcionario funcionario seemed most pleased that his prison, having already extradited Ochoa and Badalamenti, the world"s biggest cocaine and heroin smugglers, was now going to extradite Marco Polo, the world"s biggest cannabis smuggler.) Many high-profile, physically dangerous, and escape-p.r.o.ne criminals were currently here, as well as prisoners who had proved uncontrollable in other inst.i.tutions. There were three different regimes operating within the prison: normal, restricted, and Articulo 10, the most severe form of incarceration imposed in Spain. For reasons unknown to the seemed most pleased that his prison, having already extradited Ochoa and Badalamenti, the world"s biggest cocaine and heroin smugglers, was now going to extradite Marco Polo, the world"s biggest cannabis smuggler.) Many high-profile, physically dangerous, and escape-p.r.o.ne criminals were currently here, as well as prisoners who had proved uncontrollable in other inst.i.tutions. There were three different regimes operating within the prison: normal, restricted, and Articulo 10, the most severe form of incarceration imposed in Spain. For reasons unknown to the funcionario funcionario Roger, Jacques Canavaggio, and Jacques"s two gang members had been a.s.signed to normal regime; I had been a.s.signed to restricted regime. I felt sick. We shook hands and parted company. Roger, Jacques Canavaggio, and Jacques"s two gang members had been a.s.signed to normal regime; I had been a.s.signed to restricted regime. I felt sick. We shook hands and parted company.
The single cell was certainly Spartan. The only moveable objects were a small plastic stool and a foam-rubber mattress. The wash-basin and toilet were plastic. Everything else was concrete or steel. A window looked out on to a towering white wall. I had no possessions. They were being scrutinised by prison security personnel. I was a.s.sured that in due course I would get all I was allowed. Every two hours, to the sound of a funcionario funcionario yelling " yelling "Recuento", I had to stand up to be counted through a pinhole in the steel door.
After a day and two nights" total isolation, a normal procedure in most countries" high-security prisons, I was permitted to have a few hours in the patio patio (exercise yard) with the other restricted-regime prisoners. Virtually all were Spanish, but there were a few Nigerians and a couple of armed robbers from Ma.r.s.eilles. The Frenchmen and a Spaniard named Zacarias, who looked like Frank Zappa, introduced themselves to me. They gave me the usual prison care packages of food and cigarettes, as well as some very welcome Moroccan hash. (exercise yard) with the other restricted-regime prisoners. Virtually all were Spanish, but there were a few Nigerians and a couple of armed robbers from Ma.r.s.eilles. The Frenchmen and a Spaniard named Zacarias, who looked like Frank Zappa, introduced themselves to me. They gave me the usual prison care packages of food and cigarettes, as well as some very welcome Moroccan hash.
I cabled my whereabouts to Masha in Palma. I filled in visiting application forms for all my family, Masha, Bob Edwardes, and David Embley. I smoked a joint and went to sleep.
Michael Katz came to see me early the next morning. The visit was through gla.s.s. From top to bottom, he was wearing my clothes. He was carrying my briefcase. I didn"t really mind, but it was odd behaviour. He had visited Judy in Palma prison. She had just been seen by the children and had been completely torn up by their visit. Katz had the impression Judy didn"t think much of him. He was right. Geoffrey Kenion was also still in Palma prison. Katz had been too tied up with matters in Barcelona and Palma to do any research into RICO. The Americans had still not informed him of the precise nature of the charges against us. There had been loads of media coverage. He was going to leave the newspapers with me, as well as some money to credit my prison account. I asked him to please find Madrid"s best extradition lawyer and send him to see me as soon as possible. I completed a power-of-attorney form for him to access my funds in Zurich.
Lying on the bare foam mattress back in the cell, I went through the newspapers. Both the Observer Observer, where David Leigh still worked, and the Sunday Times Sunday Times offered the beginnings of a cogent explanation for my high-profile arrest. It went something like this. offered the beginnings of a cogent explanation for my high-profile arrest. It went something like this.
In early 1986, Craig Lovato was one of several DEA agents working in Spain with the Spanish drug police. The Spanish drug police were tapping my phone in Palma. Lovato listened to my conversations and figured I was dope-dealing. The Spanish didn"t believe I was breaking Spanish law. Overcoming the resistance of his superiors, Lovato investigated my background and read all that had been written about me.
Lovato"s wife, Wendy, also worked for the DEA. At the time she was in Florida a.s.sisting Scotland Yard in their investigation of the whereabouts of the proceeds from the Brinks-Mat gold bullion robbery. She had her nose buried in David Leigh"s High Time High Time, Lovato"s book-of-the-month. The British police were intrigued to learn that I was her husband"s current target. They offered to help. As a result, the DEA and Scotland Yard launched a combined operation against me called Operation Eclectic. In no time, law enforcement agencies from Canada, Holland, Pakistan, Philippines, Hong Kong, Thailand, Portugal, and Australia joined the operation in a ma.s.sive orgy of international cooperation.
Although I found it hard to understand why the Spanish police were tapping my phone in the first place, the rest of the account made sense.
There was also a mention in the press of RICO: it stood for Racketeering-Influenced Corrupt Organisations. There was no further explanation.
A full-page article in Newsweek Newsweek mentioned that I kept the loyalty of others by not killing people. The mentioned that I kept the loyalty of others by not killing people. The People People stated that there was a 1,000,000 contract out on the life of Lord Moynihan, who was living under the protection of the United States authorities. Another report stated that Detective Superintendent Tony Lundy, Scotland Yard"s most controversial detective and soon to be forced into retirement, had been responsible for turning Moynihan against me. This was completely at odds with my previous understanding of overtures made to Moynihan by Art Scalzo of the DEA. stated that there was a 1,000,000 contract out on the life of Lord Moynihan, who was living under the protection of the United States authorities. Another report stated that Detective Superintendent Tony Lundy, Scotland Yard"s most controversial detective and soon to be forced into retirement, had been responsible for turning Moynihan against me. This was completely at odds with my previous understanding of overtures made to Moynihan by Art Scalzo of the DEA.
A funcionario funcionario returned my visiting applications. Bob Edwardes and David Embley would not be allowed to visit me. Family and in-laws only. I smoked a joint. returned my visiting applications. Bob Edwardes and David Embley would not be allowed to visit me. Family and in-laws only. I smoked a joint.
In an interview with the Sunday Times Sunday Times, Lovato said he had disdain for me and that I had a weak character. He was getting very personal. Perhaps this could be his undoing. I wondered if there was much to what Katz had explained about Lovato"s illegal questioning of me. I filled out a visiting application for him. He wouldn"t be able to resist coming to question me, further breaching American law and bending the Spanish visiting rules in the process. It was worth a shot. I gave his address as the American Emba.s.sy, Madrid.
Unexpectedly, I was called again for a visit. Behind the gla.s.s this time was Gustavo Lopez Munoz y Larraz, one of Spain"s finest criminal lawyers. His English was absolutely fluent, and many of his mannerisms were more English/ American than Spanish. Both Bernard Simons and Katz had independently asked him to come and see me. Gustavo said he was quite expensive but definitely the most experienced extradition lawyer in Madrid. He would come to see me as often as I wished. He would liaise with Michael Katz and Bernie Simons in London and with Luis Morell in Palma. He was originally from Cuba, and his family practised law in Florida. Next week he was going to Miami for a ten-day holiday. He spent a lot of time in the United States. If I wanted to by-pa.s.s the prison mail procedures to communicate with Judy, or indeed anyone else, we could write to him, and he would forward the mail. I engaged him.
I spent most of the next few days in the patio patio with Zacarias and Claude and Pierre, the two Ma.r.s.eilles bank robbers. The weather was really hot, but there was a cold shower cubicle to cool off. Nigerians huddled in shelters, gambled, and smoked dope out of sight of the solitary with Zacarias and Claude and Pierre, the two Ma.r.s.eilles bank robbers. The weather was really hot, but there was a cold shower cubicle to cool off. Nigerians huddled in shelters, gambled, and smoked dope out of sight of the solitary funcionario funcionario. A few Basque terrorists played chess. Young and fit Spaniards exercised strenuously. We walked.
"Are you interested in escape, Marco Polo?" asked Claude, the best English speaker of the three.
"Aren"t we all? Why do you ask?"
"The three of us have a plan to leave here at the end of this month. We would like you to join us. Quite a few people have escaped from here. It is not that hard. We don"t want money, but maybe you could help us after our escape with false pa.s.sports. Zacarias knows where we can hide in Spain."
Zacarias pa.s.sed me a joint. He rarely took part in conversation. When he did, he spoke Spanish with a coa.r.s.e Madrid accent.
"Si, Marco Polo. Fuga es posible, chavalo. Es muy facil."
"Will anyone get hurt?" I asked Claude.
"Only if they do something very stupid. In time I will explain everything. You don"t have to answer now, Marco Polo. But please think about it."
Zacarias bit off two chunks of his piece of Moroccan hash. One he gave to me; the other he tied to an AA battery with an elastic band and threw it out of the exercise yard and over the roof of the cell block.
"The other side of that roof is the patio patio for prisoners under Articulo 10," explained Claude. "We take care of them as best we can. It"s really hard there." for prisoners under Articulo 10," explained Claude. "We take care of them as best we can. It"s really hard there."
The same battery came flying over the roof back into our patio patio. A note was tied to it. The hash had been received. It was safe to send another missile.
The lack of both incoming letters and replies to my telegrams was puzzling me. All the other prisoners were receiving mail of some kind. Someone other than lawyers would surely be trying to contact me by now. I had been there over a week. I was beginning to build up some anxiety about this when I was called for a visit.
As I walked to the visiting cubicles, I expected to see Katz or Gustavo. Instead, through the smudgy gla.s.s, I saw the heartbreaking sight of my parents" faces, with their devastated eyes belying their welcoming, relieved smiles. We couldn"t touch each other. Quivering and trembling, we stared at each other. I was struck by the horrific reality that, failing either their extreme longevity or my ability to get out of this mess, I would never, as a free man, be able to see them again. Tears rolled down my face.
"Howard bach, cadw dy ysbryd bach, cadw dy ysbryd. Keep your spirit. We"ve just talked to Masha, and Judy and the children are all right. Well, not all right, but bearing up," said Mam, also unable to hold back the tears.
"We"ll do whatever we can," said Dad.
"Mam and Dad, I"m so sorry."
"Did you get our letters, bach bach?"
"No, Mam."
"Howard bach bach, I have to ask you one question. Dad and I will do what we can whatever you did, but did you have anything to do with hard drugs or guns?"
"No, Mam, of course not. I hate those businesses. The Americans and the media have both gone mad."
"Well, the newspapers, I don"t bother with, ever. I know what they"re like. They"ll write anything to sell a story, whatever comes into their heads. There was a man from the Daily Mirror Daily Mirror outside the prison when we were coming in. He was wanting to talk to us. I said "No." I"ll never forgive them for what they did to us in 1974 when you were kidnapped on bail. No, I won"t talk to the newspapers, ever," said Mam. outside the prison when we were coming in. He was wanting to talk to us. I said "No." I"ll never forgive them for what they did to us in 1974 when you were kidnapped on bail. No, I won"t talk to the newspapers, ever," said Mam.
"I"ve got my doubts about the Americans, too. Never mind the newspapers. All that tripe about you being the biggest in the world, owning ships and banks," added Dad.
"Now with cannabis," Mam went on, "we know you"re a bit penstyff penstyff about it. You"ve always had a bee in your bonnet, for some reason. If I know it"s just that, I"ll feel a lot better." about it. You"ve always had a bee in your bonnet, for some reason. If I know it"s just that, I"ll feel a lot better."
"It is just that, Mam."
"Talking about Americans, who is this Katz fellow?" asked Dad. "He"s a weird bird, that one. He asked me for some money. I said I wanted to see you first."
"Yeah, he is weird, Dad. I"ve made arrangements to pay him."
"Do you still have some money, Howard?"
"I think so, Dad, but I don"t know how much."
"Now Gustavo we thought was very nice," said Mam. "He brought us here this morning to make sure we had no problems seeing you. There"s a lot of red tape, isn"t there, bach bach? He"s talking to the director of the prison now to see if we can leave some things we brought: books and Welsh cakes, Howard bach bach. He said what they were doing to you and Judy was outrageous, but he said there was hope. Dad liked him, too."
"Yes, I liked him, too. I gave him a cheque for 5,000. And Bob Edwardes and I are making arrangements to give Luis Morell some money."
"I"m sure I"ve got enough to cover that," I said.
"Well, Mam and I wanted to do it. We"ve also put some money in your account here. We"ll make sure Masha and the children won"t go without, while we can. Who is this Nigel fellow?"
"He"s Masha"s boy-friend."
"Is he all right?"
"I think so. I hardly know him."
The twenty minutes were quickly over. My parents were visiting again the next day. I was taken to the patio patio. The authorities let the Welsh cakes in. I shared them with Zacarias and the two Frenchmen. I complained about the shortness of the visit and not being allowed to embrace my parents. Zacarias said he could arrange for me to have a contact visit for two hours tomorrow. One of the senior visiting guards was his friend, and Zacarias himself was having a contact visit early the next morning. He would arrange things then. I thanked Zacarias profusely.
Zacarias was as good as his word. The next day, I was not taken to the visiting cubicles. I was taken to a large room with chairs and tables. My parents were sitting down, surrounded by groups of Spanish prisoners and visitors. After hugs and kisses, I sat down with them. The noise was deafening. I exchanged watches with my father. Wearing an Audemar Piquet in prison seemed silly. Dad would take care of it for me. Zacarias, quite openly smoking a joint, came up and asked if we wanted one of the bedrooms upstairs. One was free. It would be a lot quieter. Zacarias"s friendly funcionario funcionario took us upstairs to an enormous bedroom. I looked at the king-size bed. If they let Judy out of Palma, she could come to see me here. What a civilised prison system. We sat on a sofa and talked and went over everything. We talked about old times. They would come to see me as often as they could, at least once a month, health permitting. took us upstairs to an enormous bedroom. I looked at the king-size bed. If they let Judy out of Palma, she could come to see me here. What a civilised prison system. We sat on a sofa and talked and went over everything. We talked about old times. They would come to see me as often as they could, at least once a month, health permitting.
"Bye, Dad."
"Goodbye, bach bach. Stay strong, and remember to try to help others here as much as you can."
"Cheerio, Mam."
"Cheerio, Howard bach. Cadw dy ysbryd bach. Cadw dy ysbryd."
Instead of being escorted back to the patio patio or to my cell, I was taken to the office of the Jefe de Servicios, the person in charge of the prison"s security. With him was a young bespectacled or to my cell, I was taken to the office of the Jefe de Servicios, the person in charge of the prison"s security. With him was a young bespectacled funcionario funcionario who spoke English. who spoke English.
"Los periodistas estan aqui. Quieren hablar con usted," said the Jefe.
The young officer interpreted.
"Men from newspapers are here. They wish to speak with you. You do not have to. You have no obligation."
"Which newspapers?" I asked.
"El Pais from here in Madrid and the from here in Madrid and the Daily Mirror Daily Mirror from England and the from England and the Paris-Match Paris-Match from France. You are not required to speak with them." from France. You are not required to speak with them."
"Oh, I don"t object to seeing them," I said.
"But you have no obligation," he insisted.
"I understand, but I agree to see them."
"Firma acqui," said a very disgruntled Jefe, giving me a form to sign.
In a well-furnished meeting room, I spent three hours being rudely interrogated by the Daily Mirror Daily Mirror, gently questioned by Paris-Match Paris-Match, and heavily sympathised with by El Pais El Pais, who at first simply could not believe that the charges against me involved nothing other than cannabis. Each of the journalists found Judy"s incarceration outrageous. The Paris-Match Paris-Match lady said that in France I was already a hero. The lady said that in France I was already a hero. The El Pais El Pais interviewer explained that her newspaper colleagues were taking a great interest in the case, and I would be asked many times to be interviewed and photographed while here in Alcala-Meco. interviewer explained that her newspaper colleagues were taking a great interest in the case, and I would be asked many times to be interviewed and photographed while here in Alcala-Meco.
Once again, I was starting to get turned on by the glamour of publicity, but this time I resolved to use it to advantage. Maybe if I kept Judy"s plight long enough in the public eye, either the Spanish or the Americans would be shamed into letting her go. I made several pleas for her release.
With a parting gift of a carton of cigarettes, the journalists left me in the meeting room. The Jefe, his English-speaking sidekick, and four funcionarios funcionarios walked in. I was stripped of all my clothes and possessions. I a.s.sumed it was to check the journalists hadn"t given me anything they shouldn"t have, but I was wrong. walked in. I was stripped of all my clothes and possessions. I a.s.sumed it was to check the journalists hadn"t given me anything they shouldn"t have, but I was wrong.
"Howard, you are to be placed under Articulo 10. This is effective immediately and will remain effective until the next meeting of the junta junta [a national panel of senior prison bureaucrats], when there will be a review of all Articulo 10 prisoners. You will now be taken to the Articulo 10 [a national panel of senior prison bureaucrats], when there will be a review of all Articulo 10 prisoners. You will now be taken to the Articulo 10 modulo modulo. You will be kept in complete isolation for a week. You will be allowed twenty minutes" exercise a day, alone in the patio patio. You are not allowed to look at or make signals to other prisoners. After a week, you may exercise in the patio patio one hour a day with other Articulo 10 prisoners and receive one ten-minute visit through gla.s.s each week. There will be no contact or conjugal visits. You are permitted six books, a daily newspaper, and a weekly magazine. You are permitted cigarettes. You are permitted to write and receive letters and telegrams. Once a month you may receive from your family one small parcel of food and clothes. You are not permitted to sit on your bed between 7 a.m. and 11 p.m. Do you understand these conditions?" one hour a day with other Articulo 10 prisoners and receive one ten-minute visit through gla.s.s each week. There will be no contact or conjugal visits. You are permitted six books, a daily newspaper, and a weekly magazine. You are permitted cigarettes. You are permitted to write and receive letters and telegrams. Once a month you may receive from your family one small parcel of food and clothes. You are not permitted to sit on your bed between 7 a.m. and 11 p.m. Do you understand these conditions?"
"Why am I placed under Article 10? What have I done wrong? Is it because I spoke to the journalists?"
"The junta junta will explain to you at their next meeting. Do you understand the conditions?" will explain to you at their next meeting. Do you understand the conditions?"
"And when is that?"
"The junta junta will meet in December. Do you understand the conditions, Howard?" will meet in December. Do you understand the conditions, Howard?"
"No, I do not understand the conditions."
"I will read them again for you, Howard. If you still do not understand them, we will have to put you in Articulo 10 celdas celdas, where you have no cigarettes, no books, no visits ..."
"I understand the conditions."