The Cost of Seeking Shelter in the Shadow of a Syndicate Boss
I thrashed against their grip, trying to break free.
“Let me go!” I screamed, my voice cracking under the pouring rain.
One of the men shoved a black fabric hood over my head.
Everything went pitch black.
The smell of cheap polyester and sweat filled my nose.
I was lifted off my feet and thrown onto a metal floor.
A sliding door slammed shut with a heavy, metallic bang.
The engine roared to life, and the vehicle bolted forward, throwing me against a hard wall.
My shoulder throbbed with pain.
I lay on my side on the cold floor of what felt like a cargo van.
My hands were pulled behind my back, and a plastic zip-tie was looped around my wrists.
It bit into my skin as the driver pulled it tight.
I forced myself to breathe through my nose, trying to stay calm.
In the darkness of the hood, I thought of the small transmitter in my coat pocket.
My coat was thick, and the inner pocket was deep.
If they didn’t search me thoroughly, they might miss it.