Page 16 of Corrupted Kingdom

‘Murphy here is a Federal Air Marshal,’ Emilio said, his amusement evident as he rolled one of the rubber-coated pellets on the plate between his fingers. ‘He helps us get our product from A to B.’

‘You’re a drug-trafficking cop?’ I asked Murphy, who continued to give me nothing.

‘The drugs are an attractive part of the package,’ Emilio teased, dragging out my torture. ‘But he specialises in moving other possessions of mine.’

Oh.

‘I bet he does,’ I said sharply, imagining Murphy taking full advantage of the women he trafficked from one country to another. It was enough to make me want to stab them both more than I already did.

‘Can I at least eat something first?’ I asked, eyeing the pellets nervously. There had to be at least thirty of the fuckers, gleaming smugly at me from their spot on the table.

‘No,’ Emilio said. ‘If you eat, your metabolism will start working. No food until you’re on American soil.’

‘If you shit these out on the plane ride,’ Murphy added behind me, ‘you’ll have to rinse them off and swallow them again. We wouldn’t want that, would we?’

My skin crawled at the thought.

Emilio laughed, gesturing at me as he addressed his associate. ‘She’s Marco’s daughter and she’s never been a mule? I don’t believe it.’

I eyed the pellets again, each about the size of my thumb, tightly wrapped in plastic. I might not have acted as a drug mule before, but I wasn’t stupid — I knew what would happen. And I wasn’t as worried about them going in as I was about them coming back out again. Ouch.

‘The plane leaves in three hours,’ Emilio said. ‘In the meantime, Murphy, I suggest you go and buy cholita some fresh clothes and that shit women put on their face to get rid of the bags under their eyes.’

‘Concealer,’ I said. ‘It’s called concealer.’

Murphy whistled as he left the apartment, for once not arguing. I jumped in my seat as the door slammed loudly, and sat on my hands to stop myself from fidgeting.

I stared down at the plate in front of me, at the reality that greeted me. Plastic-wrapped pellets full of pure cocaine.

‘What if one of them bursts inside me?’ I asked Emilio, who was arranging a passport and papers in front of him.

‘You die,’ he said casually, as if I had asked him what would happen if it rained today. ‘You die, and I get very angry, and I cut you open to get the rest of my coke out.’

I shivered despite the warmth, imagining my lifeless body in a bathtub, dead and gutted. I imagined my blood sprayed on the walls as faceless men pushed their hands inside me and removed bloodied plastic pellets full of Colombia’s finest white powder.

‘They won’t burst,’ he said, setting the papers to one side and fixing his beady eyes on me once more. ‘I am a professional. I wrap my product properly. They will only burst if you don’t get them out quickly enough, if your stomach acid eats them away.’

My stomach roiled. I was thinking there was probably a lot of fucking acid in there right now. I wanted to throw up and I hadn’t even begun.

As if reading my thoughts, Emilio unscrewed the bottle of olive oil and took one of the pellets from the plate, balancing it in his palm. He added a swig of olive oil to his slightly cupped hand and worked the oil over the pellet until it was coated in the slick substance.

‘Open wide,’ he said, standing and leaning over the table. I swallowed, keeping my mouth firmly closed.

‘I will rape your mother and kill your father,’ he said, pressing the pellet to my lips. ‘Or you can swallow a few tiny little packages for me.’

A tear burned in my right eye and I blinked it away hurriedly, opening my mouth to allow the pellet inside. The strong smell of the olive oil hit my nostrils and I fought the urge to pull away.

‘Wider,’ Emilio instructed, forcing the pellet past my lips and teeth. My eyes bulged and my throat protested as his finger pushed the pellet all the way to the back of my tongue, aggravating the sensitive gag reflex.

I jerked away in one sharp movement, gagging and choking as I chased the slick pellet around my throat with my fingers. I couldn’t get hold of it, it was too slippery, and finally I just dropped my head forward and let it fall out into my shaking hands.

‘I can’t,’ I said, panicking. ‘Please, I’ll do something else. I won’t run away. I’ll be good.’

The words tumbling from my mouth were completely foreign to my ears and I felt hot shame rise in my face as I heard myself beg.

Emilio slapped the table loudly, circling around and grabbing hold of my jaw. I whimpered as he squeezed.

‘Look at me,’ he commanded. And me, being the obedient slave, did what I was told. I met his dark brown eyes and saw my worst nightmares within them.

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