I can watch the tape of the interview now, in the safety of my hotel room. Without the panic and uncertainties. Without the fear that something could go violently wrong. Without the possibility that I was involved in something more dangerous than I had expected. Most of the images are blurred, the sound dirty and choppy. It was shot through a hole cut into the side of my bag, so I certainly didn't expect it to look good.

To think about it clearly now, only one thing surprised me about the meeting. I expected Hakim to be a lot more intimidating. Smuggling people out of Morocco is big business, and I'd heard it was controlled by the mafia- probably the same people shipping drugs into Europe. That was worth hundreds of millions of dollars a year. Where there are drugs, weapons usually follow to protect the trade. I was expecting someone to threaten me, to search my bag, to ask questions about who I was and what I was doing there. I expected Hakim to be aggressive and forceful. Instead, he was just an opportunist- a plumber who discovered he could make a lot more money this way.

He told me he gets people into a ship only once every six months, so when his money runs out he still has to work as a plumber. He was young, only about 27. When Abdullah asked him if I could interview him, he said he would sell his own father if I paid him. On finally meeting him, he seemed more afraid of me than I was of him. The talk was informal, rarely tense. As it went on, I quickly began to feel a lot more confident in asking him questions. I tried to be direct. Not opinionated, but honest and naive.

None of his answers were surprising: he got involved with smuggling people for the money, not with the expectation of helping people get something more from their lives. He told me he didn't want to cross because he was happy in Morocco. He had a job, his family, his friends. I could tell this had always been something missing from Abdullah's life. He has no close friends that he spoke of, his father was dead, and his mother lived with the brother whom he despised- so he had little contact with them. He has nothing to lose by trying to get to Spain.

I asked Hakim about every aspect of the crossing. How did people find him, what kind of people wanted to cross, how much did they pay, how many made it, how did they get into the boat, what happened to them once they reached Spain. Most of the time he was honest with me, and seemed interested to talk about his work. The subject is so openly discussed that he had nothing to hide. He also seemed somewhat proud- not only that he could organise an operation so complex, but that it easily and quickly brought him money.

One question he refused to answer. He wouldn't tell me exactly how he got people onto the boats. This, he said, was a secret, and giving it away could put him in danger. Other than this, he didn't seem to care at all that I could easily have turned him into the police with the information I had. I knew his name, his phone number, I had his admission on tape (though, admittedly, he didn't know I was filming). It was all for money, that's what mattered in the end. He didn't care what I knew as long as I paid him. And even that was a bargain for me (about 45 dollars) and easy money for him (about five minutes work).

When it was over, and I was shaking his hand goodbye, I saw that something obvious had suddenly occurred to Hakim. I had given him the money without much argument. A little bargaining, of course, just to satisfy him with the effort- but in the end I knew I would have to pay him and I did it without complaining. The fact is, he asked me for less than I had expected to pay. He could tell there was more to be made, and he suggested I see something else the next night. Something even more interesting. He mentioned an area not far from the port- a name that meant nothing to me but that he seemed to expect me to recognise. He said if I met him at the same place the next night, and paid him, he would take me there.

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