The thin crimson filter of the late evening flowed through the window as I unwrapped my ankle holster, three knives in total and handed over my gun to his goons. I’m ordered to strip down to my lingerie and blindfolded.
My mission had been simple enough, fly into the Bahamas and take down the notorious drug baron, Sandor Machek. I’d seen pictures and footage of him on the debrief, he was a very young 40 year old man, chiselled jawline and an athletic build, notoriously ruthless, he’d killed his own father to attain power in the region. I admit I’d always had a thing for dangerous men, even the most extreme ones.
What had seemed so simple quickly got complicated as I slipped up within a few days of arriving in the country.
Sandor got to me first, intercepting me in my hotel room after his men suspected me in the lobby. The following 24 hours had been a blur as I was snook back to his compound and kept in a tight concrete cell. But, inevitably the time came for questioning and answers, little did I know I was going to face a few more disturbing questions about what I really wanted from the trip.