'We never worked together, not really. From eighteen to twenty-one I was off learning various aspects of the trade, doing grunt work like other people - learning the smuggling routes, bringing stuff through the jungle, finding out about the way bribes work at the various borders, starting to make contact with people in government and the American military, that sort of thing.'

Making outside contacts for information had been his idea. His father hadn't approved because he knew of the sort of things that would have to be done to enforce co-operation from such people. Ramon? Had no such qualms.

'And then he died and I took over. The 'bringing us out of the backstreets' part, that was all him. He did something major when I was eight and all of a sudden we were living on a ranch outside of town, I was learning to ride horses and drive motorbikes and there was a lot less need to protect yourself from other kids stabbing you. We didn't really move out of Columbia and Panama, as a business I mean, until I got my hands on it though. There was a war.'

He sets the empty plate aside and lights a cigarette, propping himself on pillows and holding him with one arm. 'So you don't really know who your mother was? You didn't see her much or something? What was she like, that you remember?'