Black humour abounds as drug-dealer Martin's luck goes from bad to worse upon discovering a hidden stash of cocaine. What follows is a fast-moving trek through the underbelly of southern Spain away from the tourist beaches. If you know the country, the descriptions of the landscape will be familiar even if the quantities of drugs consumed are not.
'That kicking,' he said, 'it was to show you that I will not be lied to, and stressful as I find violence, I will have my colleagues hurt you very badly if you do not tell me where you have hidden my property. Ideally, there will be no more nastiness.'
Fair enough, I thought. Deny everything. There was still the chance that he was unsure of the facts, and a convincing show of ignorance at this stage might have been enough to persuade him of my innocence. It was an assumption of one per cent hope cut with ninety-nine of the basest stupidity, and I made it.