I am still at the bar that overlooks the central dance floor. The house music has been turned off and the lights have come on. The room is much smaller than I imagined. The girls are sorting themselves out and the vocalist tells everyone to keep calm. About a thousand policemen in uniform burst in with Alsatian narco dogs who sniff the air and bark, pulling on their leashes in all directions. People are fleeing in all directions and some pushers are trying to reach the toilets to get rid of the drugs they have with them. I stay where I am and a cop with a truncheon orders me to spread my arms and legs. I obey. He frisks me and then asks me to empty my pockets. He doesn't find anything illegal. He does the same with Claudio, with Leo and with the girls, who are quite frightened.
One of the Alsatians barks at the gay in a transparent satin top. A cop frisks him and finds plenty of ecstasy tablets in his boors, so he handcuffs him and shoves him towards the exit. This scene is repeated various times while I watch in amazement. Semi-naked, smashed girls are crying, the police are blocking the safety exits, occasional consumers of coke and ecstasy are booked or arrested and a guy in a Police t-shirt and a crew-cut says to me, amused, "This time they'll close us down."
Greta clings to me and I take her hand and tell her to keep calm. Leo lights a cigarette and Claudio finishes his cocktail. Dimitri, the manager of the club, is taken out of his office in handcuffs.
"Now that's what I call a drugs bust!" says Claudio, electrified. "Brilliant! I'd never seen one before."
I smile and say, "Yeah, what a bust!"
"Where has Max got to?" asks Claudio. "Do you think they got him?"
I shrug.
YOU ARE READING
LAST CUBA LIBRE
Fiction généraleIf you're looking for a gripping read, look no further than "Last Cuba Libre". Meet Jessica, who's a bit of a slag. Claudio, who rocks designer threads and snorts lots of cocaine. Then there's Tony, cruising in his Porsche, leaving a trail of broken...
