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asses if we do otherwise.”
    “Enough!” said the swordsman. “We’re not killing an intelligence agent. There’s no one coming. Our guest made a wrong turn. Isn’t that right?”
    “Like hell,” Andy said, still grimacing. “You work for Leung and the woman… you set a trap for me. Isn’t that right?”
    “Wrong! We never worked with that garbage. In fact, we were working on him, to put it one way. A personal history to settle, so to speak,” said the swordsman. “Your turn, Mr. Bane. How did you come to find yourself here?”
    “I’m tailing that ‘garbage’, as you say, and I see a woman leave the clinic. I guessed she might lead me to the man I was tracking.”
    The swordsman began to laugh. “Ahhh, I see. Congratulations, Andy, it’s quite a feat to tail this one. You must have good instincts.”
    “Well, judging by my present clusterfuck I wouldn’t call them ‘good’.”
    “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
    “You should finish him!” ordered the female voice.
    “Listen!” he commanded. “Let me handle this!.”
    “You and your sixteen kinds of horseshit,” said the man by his side. The rest signalled their agreement.
    “Perfect. Andy, I know you have a radio on you and you’re itching for the panic button. I’m offering you the opportunity to do it now, or leave right away, if you wish.”
    Andy thought for a moment. If this was indeed a trap, he had to spit as soon as possible. However, his curiosity overcame his good judgement.
    “No, I'll pass” he said at last.
    “Ok. In that case... .”
    Two black hoods came off, including the swordsman’s.
    “Hi, Andy,” he said. “My name is Danny.”
      “Hi,” he answered uncertainly.
    “You’ve aged, you know, since we last met,” said Danny Namara.
    “Excuse me? I don’t recall…” Andy babbled a bit out of shock.
    “Colombia? The Antidrug Task Force? We crossed paths when you came out to investigate steamship traffickers.”
    Now, he remembered. He’d met Danny Namara in Colombia when he was a soldier on the Task Force. They’d consulted with one another for intelligence – the unit was the best, most well-informed, and least merciful in the country. Andy was kept ignorant as to their methods, but he’d been able to hazard a guess after meeting several group members. They were all certainly Special Forces, hardened commandos who were charged with locating and assassinating traffickers and destroying their processing plants. These systems were most often hidden in the heart of the jungle, well-concealed, but their unit was masterful at infiltration while sweeping away their tracks.
    All they’d managed to gather on that unit was their killing-machine nature, ready to destroy the trade and traffickers by any means, and to survive in the atmosphere of unique violence that raged in Colombia. It was multi-national scourge supported by any nation that feared the trade crossing their borders. No governments denied the existence of the unit, but none would reveal the official mission. CSIS was told that the goal was to investigate the cartels, contribute any intelligence and support the army, and thus Colombian enforcers, so that justice could prevail according to the rule of law, and that the criminals were tried before adequate juries. In truth, the involved nations had nothing to do with the Colombian authorities; it was common knowledge that corruption reigned from top to bottom. Their real goal in Colombia was to find the chiefs, subordinates, drugs and facilities, and to cover their tracks as though they’d never existed. The Antidrug Task Force was beyond expert in their methods, and a veil of secrecy overshadowed all.
    During his time in Colombia, Andy dealt mainly with Danny Namara and James Guerra. They were courteous and cold. When Andy was finally able to get the gist of what they did, he didn’t like it one bit. He’d believed in democracy and the justice system. To bring the traffickers to court, that