Ecstasy smuggled in gift baskets

With a glass of vodka in one hand, and a cigarette in the other, the Dealer was lying on the couch when a dozen police officers raided his downtown Auckland apartment. It was only 9am.

Suspecting that detectives had been tipped off to the multimillion-dollar Ecstasy ring fuelling the city's nightlife, the 52-year-old had already dumped any pills or cash that might link him as the New Zealand connection to the international syndicate.

But when he heard keys jingling in the door, the Dealer thought his partner had returned home early.

"All of a sudden about 12 cops came in the door with flak jackets and dogs. So I said: 'Come in, I've been expecting you.' It was a bit cheeky."

Despite turning the apartment upside down, the police found only a bag of marijuana but he was charged with 12 counts of possession of MDMA for supply - the Class B drug Ecstasy.

"I was like 'I've never taken a pill in my life, officer'. But I didn't realise the house was bugged."

The Dealer was arrested and charged last July as a result of an undercover police investigation into the alleged importation of 100,000 Ecstasy tablets from England over a three-month period.

Police in Auckland, Wellington and Christchurch recovered only a fraction of the pills but were alarmed at the scale of the alleged drug ring.

Three weeks ago, the Dealer told the Weekend Herald he would plead guilty to the charges, which carry a maximum penalty of 14 years in prison. On Thursday, he fulfilled that pledge in front of Judge Thomas Everitt in the Auckland District Court.

He was prepared to be named for the story, but he now cannot be identified as police have fears for his safety.

"I'm a realist. Drug dealing is a numbers game, eventually you get caught out. You play with fire, you get burned. You do your time, you get out."

Up to 200,000 pills were manufactured in Amsterdam, then smuggled from London to Auckland each year, says the Dealer - with a street value of up to $12 million.

"And you'd be naive to think we were the only operation in town."

Ecstasy tablets were hidden inside gift baskets from Harrods, the famous London department store, and posted to people pretending to be university students in Auckland. The packages were sent twice a year - Easter and Christmas - to addresses rented under false names to cover the syndicate's tracks.

Once the gift baskets were delivered, with up to 100,000 Ecstasy tablets hidden inside, one of the co-accused would arrange to meet the Dealer.

The drug ring talked guardedly in code. "Cars", "car parts" or "wheels" referred to 1000 pills, while "invoices" or "paperwork" referred to payment for the drugs. Sometimes the drugs were described by the colour of the designs printed on the MDMA tablets,

"So I'd say: 'I need 10 new tyres for the blue Fords, have you got the paperwork ... yet?" the Dealer explains.

As the wholesaler, the Dealer was a trusted middleman for the overseas-based operation. He never paid for the drugs up front. Instead, he would sell 1000 pills to his dealers for $25,000 and keep a few thousand dollars himself.

Cash and money were often exchanged in broad daylight in the Viaduct Harbour, as he and his associates gave wrapped "birthday presents" to each other.

Money was kept in a safety deposit box in the ASB vaults in downtown Auckland. Police found US$240,000 ($375,000) and $100,000 in the vault, as well as receipts that showed $785,000 had been converted into US$502,000 and €30,000 ($65,700).

The Dealer recalls doing a money run when he was a newcomer to the business, taking $1 million in a suitcase to Thailand, where the cash would be smuggled back to London.

"We were living the life of Riley in these hotels in Bangkok. Then someone would come up to our rooms, pick up a shopping bag with a million dollars and leave."

Dealing Ecstasy was just business, he says. Big business.

He first met one member of the international drug syndicate five years ago, a "tourist" whom the Dealer sold some pot to. A few months passed before the Dealer realised the man was on a working holiday.

"I figured out that he wasn't kosher. I wanted in," says the Dealer.

"At first I couldn't sell pills. It took me about eight months to build my network."

Dealing Ecstasy never made millions for the Dealer - "there's no Ferrari in the garage" - but allowed him to live a free-wheeling social life.

He is not afraid of going to prison and plans to write a book while behind bars.

Asked whether he regretted his criminal activity, the Dealer said he knew he was breaking the law but believed dealing E was a "victimless crime".

"I'm not a murderer, a rapist or a paedophile. I'm a drug dealer. I sell pills. I made good money and lived the high life," he says.

"I've lived a colourful life for 30 years. After all that great fun, going to prison is the tax I have to pay."

The title of his planned book? "Old man on the dancefloor."

PARTY-PILL BAN DEALER'S DELIGHT

The Dealer says business boomed when the Government banned BZP party pills in April last year.

Pills containing benzylpiperazine - a legal stimulant that mimicked Ecstasy - were reclassified as class C drugs, the same as cannabis.

Critics of the legislation warned that banning BZP pills would lead to people using stronger drugs such as the class B Ecstasy instead.

The Dealer said the international drug syndicate selling Ecstasy in New Zealand "laughed among ourselves" when Progressive MP Jim Anderton, then the Associate Health Minister, championed the law.

"We knew what would happen. If you take something off the market, then people are going to take something else, the real thing," says the Dealer. "I went from selling 5000 pills a month to 5000 pills a week."

His comments follow a survey by the Illicit Drug Monitoring System that shows more New Zealanders are using Ecstasy.

Lead researcher Dr Chris Wilkins said the report was worrying because it seemed to show Ecstasy use was rising quickly. He said the ban on BZP was a factor in the rise in popularity of Ecstasy, an issue that would be researched more in the next six months.