The Colombians took this idea too far.One time Rafa asked me to help collect from a Colombian who owed him money. We were out driving around one night, and Rafa found out that the guy was in a bar. “Go in the bar, Jon. Make friends. Tell him you have good coke. He’ll trust you because you’re a gringo. When he comes out the door, Flaco and I will grab him and get our money.”“Okay, Rafa. We’ll see what happens.”I spent one hour with the guy in the bar, and in that time Rafa changed his mind. I walked out the door with him, and two Indian fuckers—the peasants with flat faces who Rafa used to do his dirty work—hopped off of a motorbike. They walked up with MAC-10s and shot the guy five feet behind me.* Rafa’s thought process was, he’d rather kill a guy than get the money the guy owed him.You can imagine how angry I was. I could have been shot. When I found Rafa the next morning, I said, “You crazy fucker. Where would you be if you got me killed?”“Jon, I got carried away.”That’s how they were.
