Costa Del Crime

by Wensley Clarkson

  Spanish police blamed the explosion that killed Olaia on the fact that ETA, which used to have teams of professional bombers, was now recruiting part-timers who supported themselves and led ordinary working lives. All this meant that Olaia had received just one weekend of training by ETA bomb-making experts. Olaia had not intended to become a martyr to her cause: she simply hadn’t had enough training to prevent her making that final, fatal error.

  While on the run after her death, Anartz contacted a separatist newspaper called Gara and placed a death notice to Olaia in large, bold print: I LOVE YOU. A year earlier, Olaia’s ETA colleagues had assassinated a politician in Malaga. Since then, other bombings along the popular resorts of Torremolinos and Fuengirola have caused numerous injuries to innocent bystanders. The message ETA continues to issue to British visitors and residents on the Costa del Sol is blunt: travel to Spain at your own risk.

  Police in Marbella reckon that ETA will target the Costa del Sol even more in coming years because any disruption they can cause will damage the area’s all-important and lucrative tourist trade. ‘It’s a vicious circle,’ says one highly ranked detective. ‘Tourists are soft targets, but by scaring them away from here ETA can cause financial damage where it really hurts. That way they hope to get action from the government.’

  ETA’s new weekend and holiday killers are expected to integrate themselves into the Costa del Sol every summer. Police believe that the threat increases as each year passes. ‘ETA is recruiting more and more of these part-timers and forming small cells with ordinary people who do not stand out in a crowd,’ said one detective. Malaga police claim that anti-terrorist-squad officers monitor a lot of these cells, but admit they cannot keep track of them all the time. ‘The danger comes when we lose them on our radar. That’s when they are most likely to plant bombs and it’s impossible to know who they all are and watch them all the time.’

  ETA makes no secret of its obsession with attacking Spanish resort areas each summer. Back in March 2001, the group warned as much in a communiqué after a bomb killed a policeman in the Costa Brava beach town of Rosas. Olaia and her lover Anartz are suspected of having planted that bomb as well.

  ETA has even told visitors to Spain to stay away from ‘Spanish tourist economy objectives’. Their message is aimed specifically at European tourists who spend their holidays in these regions. These threats were further confirmed when an ETA commando was captured in the northern port of Santander in June 2001. A ferry to Plymouth had been on his list of targets.

  The Malaga Airport bomb, which caused so much travel disruption in the summer of 2001, was by no means the first time ETA has targeted the Costa del Sol. Thirty-five British and Irish tourists were all seriously injured by flying glass when another device exploded at a smaller airport in a province to the east of Malaga in 1996.

  One of the biggest fears is that the constant ETA threat will start to shrink tourism on the Costa del Sol. ‘If they keep coming back year after year many people are going to stop coming here, it’s as simple as that,’ Rafael Prados, president of the Malaga Hoteliers Association, said after the 2001 Malaga Airport bomb alert, which delayed 193 flights. The British Foreign Office became involved during 2003 by telling tourists to be wary of strange packages, but they also pointed out you were much more likely to die on a Spanish road than in an ETA bomb blast.

  Those close to ETA claim that the separatists have always tried to be careful to target buildings and beaches rather than people. But as the death of Olaia Castresana showed, bombs do not always behave as they are meant to. Up in the Basque stronghold of San Sebastian, separatists still talk in glowing terms about the 22-year-old martyr to the cause and insist that her death has inspired future generations of ETA bombers. But even if Olaia had not died at such a young age, she would probably never have lived to see the seven provinces become a single, independent country because realistically only two of them – the Spanish provinces of Guipuzcoa and Vizcaya – stand a chance of ever changing hands, and they would only get a limited amount of self-governement. ‘It’s a battle without a realistic aim,’ says one terrorism expert. ‘But ETA have proved the deadliest terrorists in European history and it’s almost as if they have forgotten the reasons why they were formed in the first place.’

  As one Malaga policeman pointed out recently, ‘Down here in the south of Spain we have no interest in terrorism; we just want a quiet, peaceful life. But there is a very real fear that ETA will one day slaughter a lot of tourists and the tide will turn for the Costa del Sol.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  BAD GIRLS

  Anne-Marie Monteith

  BAD GIRLS

  The story of the British mother of five who spent more than a year in a Spanish prison on a murder charge, which has since been dropped, represents the ultimate Costa del Sol nightmare. Anne-Marie Monteith, 48 and hailing from Monkseaton in Whitley Bay, was first arrested in March 2002. She claims she was chained to her bed for hours on end after refusing the sexual advances of two female prison officers at the jail in the town of Alhaurin de la Torre, just 20 miles north of Malaga. ‘What I’ve just been through makes Bad Girls look like a holiday camp,’ she explained. ‘I was humiliated and treated no better than an animal. It was a disgusting, horrible nightmare that has damaged me for life.

  ‘Being chained to the bed was the worst thing of all. These two particular members of staff accused me of insolence when I refused to sleep with one of them. Then they came into my cell late one night and handcuffed me to the bed. They did that for the following ten days each night. When I asked why, they said it was for my own protection.’

  Inside the prison where Anne-Marie was held were just a hundred females inmates and well over a thousand men. ‘They were in the other half of the prison and we had little direct contact with the men, apart from drama classes. But just the fact they were so close made things a bit tricky.’

  Anne-Marie says that drama classes she attended inside the prison ‘were awful, because the men were allowed to sit next to us and some of them would try and molest us under the tables. Some women inmates were happy to allow the men to fondle them, but I was disgusted. I just don’t understand why they were allowed to do it. The staff spent the whole time smirking at us.’

  Anne-Marie is convinced she was discriminated against because she was English. ‘They thought I was an easy lay because that’s what they think of English women. It was terrifying. There were many hardened criminals in there for robbery and drugs, and a lot of sick perverts. The prison was only fifteen years old but it was in desperate need of a revamp. It was disgusting. I wouldn’t have put an animal in there. The toilets were broken, cracked and unfit for human use, and excrement was spread across the floor. The walls of the cell were peeling and cracked and the smell was disgusting throughout the prison.’

  She claims she only took a shower twice throughout her year in the prison because ‘you had to watch your clothes in case any of the inmates stole them. Also, I felt that someone might try and force me to have sex. And the water was a disgusting brown colour.’

  Back in the main part of the prison things were no better. ‘Sometimes squads of male prison officers would come into our unit to stop a fight, and they were always very violent. Some of the women inmates were beaten for just waving at the male inmates in the next-door jail.’

  Anne-Marie says she was stunned by the open nature of the sexual relations between women inmates and sometimes even the staff. ‘Many of the women inmates had sex with each other in their cells and they were constantly kissing and caressing each other in the refectory and TV areas. It was very offensive because of the way they defiantly did it in front of you, but none of the staff ever stopped them. In fact, three or four women staff members were having open relationships with female inmates. There was also a woman who was close to death with AIDS who walked around trying to pick fights with us. It was awful.’

  There were regular scuffles between female inmates. ‘They’d suddenly
go for each other’s throats. There were fist fights, catfights everything, you name it. They’d tear each other’s hair out and many of the inmates urged them on, getting some sick and twisted kick out of it all.’

  But the most humiliating moment came when Anne-Marie was allowed a conjugal visit from her husband Richard. ‘I was allowed to see him through a glass panel twice a month for an hour, but then they permitted us a conjugal visit. We went in the room. It was bare with tiles on the walls, a little cubicle to wash in, a toilet and nothing else. No curtains on the window. The chipboard bed creaked so badly that in the end we had to stop. I could hear the prison staff sniggering just outside the door. It was so inhibiting. I told my husband I could never do it again because it was so humiliating.’

  Anne-Marie also believes prison staff deliberately called her by her surname even though most other inmates were referred to by their Christian name. ‘It was their way of further humiliating me because I was the only English woman in the prison.’

  Random strip-searches convinced Anne-Marie she was being completely and utterly victimised. ‘They would stop me in the middle of the recreation area and force me to drop my pants in front of everyone. It was disgusting. They claimed they were looking for drugs but I think they just did it for sick, twisted and perverted reasons. It was horrible.’

  Anne-Marie insists she never once took any drugs throughout her stay in the prison. ‘Drugs got in so easily. Women had them in their knickers. Others exchanged them through kisses and hand squeezing. There were even certain pushers inside the prison trying to force you to buy the drugs from them. Many women inmates would go down to the showers, crush the drugs into cigarettes and then get high. They even used tablets from the medical wing. Anything to get high.’

  She claims she was locked in solitary confinement inside her cell for calling an officer ‘stupid’. ‘I wasn’t allowed out. I used the toilet and wash-basin and my meals were brought to the cell, all because I called one of the women officers who was harassing me “stupid”.’

  Anne-Marie was finally released from prison in March 2003 after police found clear evidence that she had not been involved in the murder of a wealthy British housewife called Diana Dyson on the Costa del Sol in December 2001. Anne-Marie’s husband Richard remains in a Spanish jail awaiting trial for the murder, but his case is not expected to be heard for at least another year. ‘I cannot believe that it took so long to release me. Now I have to battle to try and get Richard released because he is as innocent as I am.’

  Anne-Marie claims that the real killer of elderly Mrs Dyson is another Brit who has now returned to the north-east of England. ‘But the Spanish police are doing nothing to try and extradite this man. I am so worried about my husband. He is completely innocent.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DIAMOND GEEZER

  Max Diamond

  DIAMOND GEEZER

  The Costa del Sol throws up some very unlikely characters with some peculiar names, but the man who really takes the biscuit in this department is Max Diamond. Yes, that really is his name. Max is a man for all seasons, and he’s got a finger in every pie, working very hard making an honest living. This 44-year-old from the Midlands is one of the most familiar faces in Benalmadena, a popular resort sandwiched between Fuengirola and Torremolinos. From his offices on the ground floor of a high-rise apartment building, he is unashamedly trying to cash in on the Brits who have swamped the area over the past 20 years.

  His latest business enterprise is something called freeonlineshops.com, a wonderfully simple idea that he hopes will help make him millions – and it’s legit. It comes in the wake of another money-spinner: an online tobacco-supply service that takes advantage of Spain’s ludicrously cheap cigarettes, which are shipped out to the UK through orders on the internet.

  With a string of young girlfriends and a couple of children by other women, Max has to earn a decent wedge to meet all his monthly commitments; his efforts to make a bob or two sum up what is needed to make a straight success of your life out on the dodgy old Costa del Crime. ‘Something happens to you when you get out here. You lose all sense of proportion compared to what you were used to back home,’ he explains, and he’s not just talking about his business acumen. ‘It must be the sun, the booze and the women, but so many blokes come a cropper and get hooked on all three.’

  Max doesn’t hide the fact he’s a liberal-thinking swinger, just as happy wandering through the corridors of the local wife-swap club as he is propping up his local bar with a pint of lager in a straight glass. ‘Anything goes out here. It’s bloody brilliant. I’ve never had sex with so many women in such a short space of time.’ At the time of writing, after just five years on the Costa del Sol, Max puts his conquests at the thousand-plus mark. He reckons he’s tried it all: threesomes, foursomes, orgies. You name it, Max seems to have done it. But there’s something refreshingly honest about him. He is open about what he does and insists he’s not ashamed of anything. ‘Why should I hide the fact I like sex with lots of different women all the time? Is it such a big deal? I don’t think so. It’s only all the frigid, rigid people back in Middle England who want to ruin all the fun by making disapproving remarks. They’re just frustrated by their own lack of opportunity. Out here, no one cares what your sexual persuasion is. People have the spirit to do exactly what they want, and they do just that.’

  Max doesn’t even hide the fact that at least two of his girlfriends have worked in Costa del Sol brothels in the recent past. ‘Sure, I met them in brothels. Why should I hide that? They are normal human beings like the rest of us. Just because they’re paid to have sex with men doesn’t mean they’re not worthy of a proper relationship.’

  Underneath the brash exterior lies a sensitive soul who is always willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt. ‘I don’t judge people. Who am I to say whether someone is good or bad? I start every relationship with an open mind and I don’t care about anyone’s past.’

  Max openly admits to being a regular customer at many of the coast’s most notorious brothels – or clubs, as he calls them. ‘There’s nothing I like better than going down to a few clubs on a Saturday night and having a good time. There are some amazing girls in those places. Many of them are a lot brighter than some of the women you find in the bars round here.’

  And if he’s seeing someone at the time, it makes no difference – Max simply doesn’t see it as cheating. ‘I don’t understand what that word really means. I always tell my girlfriends when I go to the clubs because I don’t think it’s fair to lie like most men. Surely it’s better to be honest about it?’

  The swinging scene in Benalmadena and surrounding areas can be perfectly summed up by Max’s old mate Pete, who openly admits to an orgy or two at weekends. ‘Me and the wife have found it has given our sex life a real boost. It’s a very active scene out here. Even Spanish couples are now turning up at clubs and there’s also one or two Spanish-only swingers’ clubs along the coast which have opened up recently. Funny thing is that, until all the Brits and Germans turned up a few years back, they didn’t even know what swinging meant.’

  Max and his staff of internet pioneers often enjoy a staff outing to one local swingers’ club called Eden Rock, which operates out of a basement just a stone’s throw from the sandy beaches that are filled every summer with tens of thousands of holidaymakers. Max freely admits to being a regular at the club, which is just a short walk from the centre of Benalmadena. ‘I love it down there. Sometimes you can walk in and the place is really heaving. There are couples having sex up against the bar, men watching couples having sex in side rooms, and women seducing each other in the corridors. It’s fantastic. Out of this world. It’s a brilliant way to break down barriers because once you get in the place you have to either join in or leave. There are no half measures. You’d be amazed at how many women completely lose their inhibitions once they’re inside Eden Rock. Some of the straightest-looking people turn into the most sex-hungry vixens once they ge
t into the swing of things. It’s as if there’s a switch goes on in their head once they walk through the door, and they become desperate for sex.’

  Max’s base in Benalmadena is in the middle of what is probably the coast’s most depressing area. The streets and cracked pavements are filled with tatty tower blocks, many of which offer low-rent housing to British single mums with young children who have relocated from the UK even though they are still claiming the dole through relatives. One local resident who has lived in the area for 30 years believes that fewer than half of those children even go to school. ‘It’s a bloody disgrace. Sometimes it feels like most of Britain’s white-trash population have upped sticks and decided to opt for a jobless life out here in the sun. Some days I walk out of my house to be greeted by gangs of British kids loitering on the street corners. And they’re often still there late into the night.’