- Islamabad, January–February 2010
The Western diplomat cuts two lines of cocaine on his iPhone and snorts them with a 100 rupee bill.
“Pure Colombian,” he says. “Don’t be shy.”
I shake my head.
“A bit of jet lag I expect?” he says glancing about my room and inquiring about my fourteen-hour flight from the States.
“Some, yes,” I say.
We first met in Afghanistan in 2003. He was a source. We got to know each other and became friends in the way I become friends with people I use for information; constant contact bred familiarity. We remained in touch after he was assigned to Islamabad. I e-mailed him as I prepared for this trip and he agreed to meet me in my guesthouse.