I securely tied up the long rope I had brought with me and doused it in paint thinners. I opened the paint tins, spreading paint and thinners over all...the old furniture. I crept down the stairs in my socks. There was a guard: Big Tone himself, at the main residence door. Mostly his attention was directed downstairs, the running commentary from the European football match faintly heard up the stairwell. Holding my heavy knife by its leather scabbard, I struck the goon hard on the back of his. When there was a moments lull in the conversation, I jumped straight in. "Will he tell me where I am?"They spoke briefly. The fat man smiled as he looked at me."He say it better you don't know." What is going to happen to me?"He translated."He say it better you don't know." Can I have a drink and something to eat please?"He translated."Yes. We go now. I bring you drink."I grabbed my clothes, throwing them back on as I followed the small man out of the room and down the corridor. We stopped at. More

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