The White Powder of Torrevieja Chapter 6: Hangar 7
The port at night looked like a set from a film noir. Cranes froze in the sky like giant bird skeletons. Containers stood in rows, creating a labyrinth of rusty metal.
Garcia and Velasquez walked toward Hangar 7. Garcia carried a bag of money. Velasquez walked alongside, glancing around nervously.
Two security guards stood at the entrance. In black suits, with earpieces.
"Garcia," said one. "Come in. The director will wait here."
"No," said Garcia. "We're together."
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The guard looked at Velasquez.
"Rules are rules."
"The rules have changed," Garcia stepped forward. "It's either both of us, or neither of us."
The guard hesitated. Then he nodded into his earpiece.
"Come in."
The hangar was brightly lit. Bright lamps illuminated the space. A table stood in the center. God sat behind it.
Next to it stood more boxes. Even more.
"I was expecting you alone, Javier," God said. The voice echoed throughout the hangar.
"We're a team," Garcia said.
God chuckled.
"A team. Nice. Did you bring the money?"
"First, the terms," Garcia put his bag on the table, but didn't let go of the handle. "A fixed price. A contract. A year's supply guarantee."
God laughed.
"A contract? With me? Are you kidding?"
"No. Otherwise, we'll go to the police. We have records. Evidence of a monopoly."
God stopped laughing. His face turned stony.
"You think the police will touch me? I have friends in the mayor's office. In the police. In the ministry. I am the system, Javier."
"The system is failing," Garcia said. "We know about the colored cocaine. We know you artificially created a shortage."
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God stood up. He was taller than he had appeared in the garage.
"And if so? What will you do? Fire me?"
"We'll tell the parents. We'll tell the press. 'God' is stealing the future from the children of Torrevieja. Do you think the tourists will like this? The investors?"
God was silent. He paced around the table.
"You're brave, teacher. Too brave for a man with a salary of two thousand euros."
"I have a reason," Garcia said. "I teach children to think. And you teach them to obey."
God paused.
"Okay," he said suddenly. "You win this round."
He nodded to the guard. The guard placed a folder on the table.
"Contract. Fixed price. For a year."
Garcia couldn't believe his eyes.
"Why?" “Because you're right,” God said. “The system is failing. But not because of me. Because you've stopped appreciating what you have. White coke... It's just powder. But you're willing to kill for it.”
God approached Garcia.
“Take it. And go. But remember: when this contract ends... I'll be gone. And then true darkness will come. There will be no color, no white. There will only be emptiness.”
Garcia took the folder.
“Why did you warn me?”
“Because I'm not a villain, Javier. I'm just a mirror. I'm showing you what you're willing to do for comfort.”
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God turned away.
"Go away. Before I change my mind."
Garcia and Velasquez emerged from the hangar. The night was cold.
"We did it," Velasquez said, wiping sweat from his brow. "We won."
"I don't know," said Garcia. "I think he let us go because he no longer needed us."
"How so?"
"Look." Garcia pointed to the port.
In the distance, at the dock, containers were being loaded onto a huge ship.
"He's withdrawing assets," Garcia said. "He's leaving the city."
"Why?"
"Because the game is over. He got what he deserved. And we... We're left with our coke. And our problems."