My “drug-deals” in Canada had become somewhat successful. I’d travel to Montreal every 3 to 4 months, collect my money in checks, and head back to Colombia without a hitch.

But, as things started to become problematic with security, I didn’t want to fly anymore. I decided to control everything from the beautiful office I shared with two other friends and colleagues behind the World Trade Center in Bogota.

My office looked more like the headquarters of a huge corporation than a nest of drug-traffickers. Wooden columns and marble tiles laid across the floor, and a long exquisite customized “retro” table took up space in the middle of the conference room. The bar was always stacked with an assortment of brands as well as the wine cooler which usually kept delectable authentic petit fours, fresh and preserved.

Not only did I conduct business within these four walls, but “stripper” parties…