MEDELLIN, Colombia (CNN) -- This city's drug underworld is littered with "poseurs" -- lowlife triggermen pretending they're the real hard cases. But a longstanding and trusted source, with intimate knowledge of Medellin's violent subculture, assured me the two men I was about to meet were the real deal. My destination: a single-story home in the city's notorious "Commune 13" district where I had set up a meeting with two hit men, who have for years hired their lethal services out to the cocaine cartels. Inside the house, a man called "Red" sat on a couch toying a fully loaded 9mm Ruger pistol. "This will stop somebody nicely," he said, as I glanced at it. His face and arms were covered in burn marks. He said it was a testament of the day a barrel of acid spilled onto him as he was working in a clandestine cocaine processing lab in northern Colombia. Red explained that after the accident, the lab foreman tossed him out, half-dead, into a jungle clearing. What little strength he had left, he said he used to bat away vultures. And, against the odds, he made his way to safety and slowly recovered. When Red left the clinic months later, he said he went straight back to the drug lab and gunned down the foreman and three of his henchmen. That wasn't his first killing though, he told me. When he was just 11 years old, Red recounted, he took a razor to the throat of a neighborhood drug pusher who had been molesting his little sister. The other man, "C", sat quietly as I listened to Red. Like Red, my source told me, "C" was also the so-called "chief" of a number of neighborhoods -- running local drug-peddling operations, extortion rackets and organizing hits for a big cartel boss he simply referred to as "El Cucho," or "The Old Man." Don't Miss * Power vacuum fuels vicious drug war It was a hot morning and he was shirtless. His chest was branded with a tattoo of the Virgin Maria Auxilatrix, known in Colombia as the "Virgin of the Assassins." Hitmen, or "sicarios" as they call them here, revere her and pray to her for protection against arrest or death and for help to carry out their killings. During our time with the hit men they offered a fascinating insight into their violent world -- from how much they get paid to what their mothers think of their lifestyle: Penhaul: Why are Medellin's drug bosses and the street gangs in a war right now? "RED": "These problems come about because they're looking for a good man to run things. We have to find him and, in order to find him, what's happening right now has to run its course." "C": "Medellin has exploded right now because different groups want to control it and earn money and gain territory. The authorities locked up, extradited, or cut cooperation deals with the big guys, the ones who controlled all this. Those were the ones people respected. Now there's no respect and anybody who has a bunch of money is grabbing a few kids from a poor neighborhood and putting them to work." Penhaul: What are the cartel bosses paying for a contract killing now? "C": "If you're talking about a contract hit then right now you can get four or five million pesos (between US$2,000 and $2,500) to kill some idiot slimeball. Then of course there are bigger hits where you can earn 15 (million) or 20 million (between $7,500 and $10,000). Some of those hits pay pretty well. There's a lot of people around here with a lot of money and they're using it for bad things. Sometimes even the politicians will pay for a hit to get somebody out of their way." Penhaul: Why did you get into this lifestyle? "Red": "People need to eat and there's a lot of hunger. We don't just want the crumbs. That's the big problem. There's a lot of idle hands around here and many people think they have a chance if they have a gun in their hand." "C": "I grew up in a slum and every time I stepped outside the door there were guys from the local gang smoking (marijuana) joints. They had guns, the best motorbikes and money so I started running errands for them." Penhaul: Didn't you have any big dreams when you were kids? "Red": "I always said when I grow up I would build a house for my old lady with a cement roof and plaster and paint on the walls. I dreamed I'd be able to give her money to go to the supermarket every week." "C": "I dreamed of being a professional soccer player. I was pretty good. But I never got the chance." Penhaul: Do you think you've made your mothers proud by killing people? "Red": "I once gave my mum a wad of cash after I did a job. She took the wad and slapped me in the face and told me not to bring that cursed money into the house. She begged me to get out of that life. She was afraid they would kill me." "C": "My mum knows nothing about this. I guess she imagines because she tells me to take care otherwise I'll wind up dead. But she doesn't know for sure." Penhaul: What did your first contract hit feel like? "Red": "You kill the first one and you panic for a few days. You're nervous. But then you kill the second one and that's a kind of a medicine. It takes the pain away that you were feeling after the first killing." "C": "The first time is really f***ed up. I nearly went mad. You see a cop and think he's going to arrest you. I was 16 or 17. That was my first time. I hardly even wanted to eat. But then you carry on and kill this one and that one. You earn money. After I killed somebody the first time I bought my first decent pair of sneakers. "It's not so tough now. Sometimes you kill somebody and you know they were going to kill you. It's not a question of conscience. It's a question of kill or be killed." Penhaul: Don't you feel any remorse? "C": You know you messed up when you go to the wake and see people crying and you know it's your fault. But I don't back down from a killing because I know if somebody comes after me they won't back down." "Red": "I've got feelings and sometimes you sit down and think what a shame. But the person who's trying to shoot you isn't going to think the same. You're not killing somebody for the fun of it. If you don't mark your territory then you're a nobody." Penhaul: So, apart from the money, why do you do it? "C": "To gain respect round here you have to be a mother f***er. You've got to be a bastard so people respect you. If you're quiet and respectful everybody takes advantage. But if they know you're a mother f***er who'll bust their ass at the first sign of trouble then they respect you and your family." Penhaul: Are you killing innocent people? "C": "I never kill somebody who doesn't deserve it. Sometimes I'll hunt down a "patient" for a week just so that I don't make any mistakes. You can't go and kill somebody just because you want to. You have to ask for permission from the big guys who control us. You explain to the "old man" and he gives the final word." Penhaul: Are you ever on the receiving end of bullets? "Red": "They once shot me four times at point blank range. I heard them laughing as they walked away and one came back and kicked me in the head for good measure. When I got better he was the first one I killed. I've been shot 17 times. Well let's call it 19 if you count the ones that just graze you. They say some bodies have divine protection. Let's hope mine is one of them." Penhaul: Why don't normal citizens just turn you in? Because they're afraid? "C": "The community collaborates with us. We give them food parcels and we throw parties for them and give toys to the kids. We don't mistreat everybody, just the ones who deserve it. We don't kill innocent people." Penhaul: Do you want to get out of this life? "C": "I know you should pay what you owe. But I don't want to pay for all those deaths. I'll be absolutely f***ed if I have to pay. I want to get out of this but I want a clean slate. If I pay my debt to the law then that means jail and if I pay on the street then that means death. I don't want to go to jail or to die." advertisement Penhaul: Do you see any quick end to the current cartel violence in Medellin? "C": "We've survived one war, then another and now this one. I can't see it all ending. I don't think that will happen. If you kill two or three people there's four or five more behind him who want to kill you."

MADRID, Spain (CNN) -- Spanish police arrested a well-known Basque politician linked to the armed Basque separatist group ETA on Tuesday, along with nine suspected collaborators, the Interior Ministry said in a statement.
Former leader of banned Basque party Batasuna Arnaldo Otegi after his arrest.

Former leader of banned Basque party Batasuna Arnaldo Otegi after his arrest.

The politician, Arnaldo Otegi, is a leader of the former Batasuna party, outlawed for its ties to ETA, which is blamed for more than 800 deaths in its four-decade fight for Basque independence.

Otegi and the others were arrested in northern Spain for trying to regroup the leadership of the so-called Basque left movement in order to "carry out ETA's orders," the statement said.

Otegi and four others were arrested during a meeting at an office of the Basque union LAB in San Sebastian. Two others were arrested on the street in the nearby town of Hernani, and three others were arrested in Pamplona, including one for allegedly possessing documents from another suspect's home in an attempt to avoid having them seized by police, the statement said.

The operation is being directed by anti-terrorism Judge Baltasar Garzon of Spain's National Court, and the suspects were due to be taken to Madrid to appear before him in the coming days, the statement said.

Otegi has been in trouble before with the law. In 2007, he was arrested shortly after Spain's Supreme Court upheld a lower-court's conviction of him in 2006 for glorifying terrorism at a memorial in December 2003 for a dead ETA leader.

Otegi was sentenced to 15 months in jail. But at the time of his 2007 arrest, he had been free on $300,000 bail in a separate terrorism case of inciting violence.
Don't Miss

* 'Most-wanted' ETA suspects seized at ski resort
* Bombing wave marks ETA campaign's 50th year
* Spain: Tourists safe from ETA attacks

A senior government source who insisted on anonymity said last month that officials had been expecting Otegi to try to step forward soon as an interlocutor promising to help end ETA's violence and negotiate a deal with the government.

The aim, according to the source, was to permit a rebranded Batasuna to run for local office again, on the promise it would seek to end ETA's violence once it had regained elected government positions.

But government officials have said publicly there can be no further talks with ETA, which is listed as a terrorist group by Spain, the European Union and the United States. Video Watch background behind ETA's decades-long struggle »

When ETA declared a unilateral "permanent" cease-fire in March 2006, the government began steps toward a peace process, but ETA then bombed Madrid's airport in December 2006, killing two men and causing extensive damage.

ETA in 2007 called off its cease-fire, which the government had already considered finished.

The government has said since then that the only way to end more than 40 years of violence will be for ETA to renounce its campaign and lay down its arms or face its demise through a police crackdown.

Yet ETA has continued its killings and bombings, including fatal attacks in the Spanish island of Majorca in August.
advertisement

But police in Spain and in neighboring France -- ETA's traditional rearguard base -- have cracked down hard, arresting dozens of ETA suspects, including four of its alleged top leaders.

The arrest of Otegi and others on Tuesday comes two days after police detained two of the most-wanted ETA suspects in France. They were allegedly involved in ETA logistics and police later found weapons and material to make car bombs, the Interior Ministry said in a statement.

NEW DELHI, India (CNN) -- The economic might of India may bring to mind technological savvy and overseas call centers. But to understand the Indian economy, a visit to a roadside dentist like Raj Kishore is more illuminating.
The Indian economy is fueled by independent workers such as Radha Kumar.

The Indian economy is fueled by independent workers such as Radha Kumar.
Click to view previous image
1 of 2
Click to view next image

"I can extract, I can fill up, I can scale, I can make dentures, I can make bridge metal or non-metal." Kishore said as he fitted dentures for a customer.

One thing he can't do is show a license to practice -- like many roadside dentists sitting on sidewalks awaiting customers.

While information technology and outsourcing has earned India the nickname as "the world's back office," the sector employs a fraction of India's population -- only 2 million of India's more than 500 million workers, according to NASSCOM, an IT and business process outsourcing trade organization.

So where do the majority of people work in India? The International Labor Organization and economists say as many as 95 percent of the workforce makes a living in what is known as the informal or unorganized sector.

"Roughly today about 50 percent of the production is from the unorganized sector," says New Delhi-based economics professor Arun Kumar, referring to jobs and services that exist without a storefront, union to represent the workers, or corporate structure.

Although things are changing and the economy has boomed in recent years, Indians are still emerging from poverty. Finding employment can be tough so people have literally created jobs out of sheer necessity, such as roadside dentist Kishore.

Kishore says he learned his trade from a dentist and a dental course but he does not have a degree in dentistry. He and those around him provide a service to customers who couldn't dream of affording a licensed dentist in an office.

That is just one of thousands of jobs that make up India's informal economy.
Don't Miss

* Timely matters for Bombay Stock Exchange

Radha Kumari is a Mehandi artist. She uses henna to make intricate traditional designs on women's hands and feet. It's an old art that is steeped in tradition and is typically worn by brides the day before the wedding ceremony but is also popular during other Indian holidays and with tourists. She learned the trade from her sister at age 10 and started working as a teenager.

"I started doing this work because I was needy. I have no parents; my sister has done everything for me so it was very important for me to work," said Kumari, a mother of two, while she swirled henna on the hand of a customer.

She makes 25 to 50 rupees (50 cents to $1) per hand, she said. She and other henna artists are often "troubled" by city authorities or police who come to kick them off of the sidewalks or ask for bribes -- technically Kumari and others are breaking the law by setting up shop on government property.

City government authorities showed up while CNN was interviewing Kumari, causing the henna artists around her to pack up and run away.

It's a tough life. "If there can be anything better, I would definitely love to do it," she said. "Here there is no certainty. Today I'm allowed to sit here, tomorrow I may not be." But Kumari says it's better than nothing at all.

Experts say the informal economy helped keep India out of recession, since it is not tied to the global markets. While the ingenuity and entrepreneurial spirit has help the Indian economy growing, the largely unregulated workforce promises to have negative impacts on the Indian economy as well, as transactions are often in cash and difficult to trace and tax.
advertisement

But the working conditions and low pay leave millions living in poverty.

"Their conditions are very poor because they have no protective gear of any kind, they have no real social security of any kind," said Arun Kumar, an economics professor at Jawaharlal Nehru University. "They face a lot of hardship of all kinds in terms of their existence, where they stay, what do they do, their health conditions, et cetera."

William C. Thompson Jr. walked into Tuesday night’s mayoral debate a likeable man who is being outspent 16 to 1, and whose views and background are more than a bit of a mystery to many New Yorkers.
Skip to next paragraph
Enlarge This Image
James Estrin/The New York Times

William Thompson greeted his supporters before his debate with Mayor Michael Bloomberg on Monday night.

Get up-to-the minute news from City Room, The New York Times and around the Web, including Twitter, YouTube and local blogs.
Campaign Tracker »
Multimedia
7 Candidates for the Mayor’s JobInteractive Feature
7 Candidates for the Mayor’s Job
Related
Bloomberg Defends His Record in First Mayoral Debate (October 14, 2009)
Dust-Up of the Debate Occasionally Obscures Some Facts (October 14, 2009)

Unfortunately for Mr. Thompson, he seemed to have exited in the same fashion.

Save for his accent, which carries the unmistakable cadence of his native Brooklyn, and for his insistent attacks on Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg’s flip-flop on term limits, Mr. Thompson, the city comptroller, resembled a painter who left too much of his canvas blank.

He grew up as the high-achieving son of a prominent politician and a teacher in Bedford-Stuyvesant, a neighborhood of elegant brownstones that now suffers a plague of foreclosures and homelessness. During his time on the Board of Education, he voted for two chancellors who concentrated on the poorest students and wrested power from corrupt local school boards. Test scores rose sharply in his final years there.

A viewer would have learned little to nothing of these facts. Mr. Thompson’s personal anecdote count Tuesday totaled zero.

The conundrum for Mr. Thompson is that he’s carved a three-decade career in public life by being a conciliator, a nimble-footed inside player herded board members to votes and — with one notable exception — really tried to avoid annoying former Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani.

He lacked power to make most policy decisions and seemed allergic to crusades. All of which is perfectly defensible, but public powerlessness is not the stuff of compelling narratives.

On Tuesday Mr. Bloomberg attacked him, erroneously, for being “in charge” of the schools in the 1990s. Mr. Thompson scrunched his face, incredulous.

“I was in charge?” he said, turning to look at the mayor. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

Mr. Bloomberg replied with just a hint of a Cheshire cat smile.

In fairness, neither mayor nor comptroller made the night electric; Mr. Bloomberg in particular tended to dole out energy a miserly watt at a time. The city is sunk into recession’s mire, unemployment tops 10 percent — black male unemployment edges toward 50 percent — and foreclosure threatens working class families, and the candidates made glancing mentions of all of this. (Neither candidate uttered the word foreclosure).

A reporter asked the candidates about a controversial fact of life in minority communities: Police each year frisk more than half a million young men, more than 80 percent of them black or Latino. The number of frisks has increased during the past decade, sweeping up hundreds of thousands of teenagers and college students. Police have arrested fewer than 5 percent of this number.

Mr. Thompson wants to curtail it. “We know it’s being overused,” he said.

Mr. Bloomberg conceded no problem. “I do think the police have struck a good balance,” he said soothingly.

Mr. Bloomberg is not much for emoting. He rolls his eyes, his voice cuts monotone and his touch is rarely common. But he came into the night with considerable advantages. He is a reasonably popular two-term incumbent (residents tend to like his policies more so than him), and he sits atop a great green bag of personal swag, having so far spent $65 million of his own money on this campaign.

Mr. Bloomberg, an independent, is unsentimentally promiscuous about party loyalty. But in his governing style, he looks an awful lot like a moderate Democrat, which complicates matters for Mr. Thompson, who as it happens is a moderate Democrat.

None of which is to suggest that Mr. Thompson has no line of attack — the decaying economy suggests opportunity. But the Thompson campaign has been curiously relaxed — last weekend he appeared at two churches, according to his schedule. He offered passionate words Tuesday night about the plight of middle-class New Yorkers.

But he offered no storehouse of stories of actual suffering to put meat on the bones of his attack.

Instead Mr. Thompson concluded as he began, by doubling down on a single bet: term limits. The election, he said, will be New Yorkers’ referendum on term limits. “And that we say: We are not for sale!”

In less than four weeks, he’ll find out if that is enough.