So far, life had run pretty true to form. Three weeks ago he set off for the grand adventure and so far, on a scale of 1 to 10, thrill and excitement was somewhere about zero.

Max was now starting the long winding ascent into the mountains. The hairpin bends on the way up, at least broke the monotony. He shifted into second gear, then into first to negotiate the hairpin bend. In the inky blackness of the night, below he glimpsed the lights of another vehicle. Max was not sure if he was pleased to see the manifestation of other human life on this road. He suspected bandits were in this area. He looked again; the lights were closer now and approaching fast!

The more he thought about the situation, the worse it seemed to be. He was being irrational and feeding his fears.

Max looked for somewhere off the road, to hide until the car passed. The left side of the road was almost a sheer drop into oblivion, and the right hand side was a sheer cliff face to the stars.

He pressed his foot hard down on the accelerator and the drumming of the now high revving engine, straining to push the heavy van slowly up the mountain road, made him panic. He had to get ahead, hide, anything, but let them catch up and murder him.

“Pull yourself together,” he said to himself “you’re just psyching yourself up” but his foot pressed the pedal even harder to the floor.

Frantically he looked from side to side, to find some sort of refuge; he looked down below and saw the approaching lights.

“Damn, they are gaining on me! What am I going to do? Why did I come to this godforsaken place?”

Relentlessly, the lights grew closer, Max felt sick in his stomach, he had convinced himself bandits were going to catch him, then rob him, then kill him.

“Damn it!” He shouted.

Logic had deserted him, he could not think straight. He had led a sheltered life, free from violence. News reports on television were the closest he had come to the reality of a violent world, now he was to become a victim. Probably no one would ever know he had been killed!

The lights of the following car flashed in his wing mirror. They were on the same upward straight as him. He checked his fuel gauge, the width of the road, the feasibility of blocking their path and preventing them overtaking.

The reality hit him. The road was quite wide, except at the bends, he had fuel enough for the 100km journey to the nearest town, but he couldn’t block murderous bandits for 100km.

Beeeeeeep - beeeeeeep- beeeeep. The black Mercedes shot past at least 50km/hr. faster than Max was travelling, and did not stop.

“You crazy bastards! I hope you kill yourselves,” shouted Max.

The relief swept over him, and he started to shake. He felt so stupid! Here was the great adventurer, and at the sight of the first bogyman after dark, he was a quivering wreck.

It was from this moment, Max’s life changed. He was about to enter Carla’s sinister world.

After Carla had invested the drug money, stolen with the help of dearly departed Tim, in Caserta, Marco the Drug Baron and his men tracked Carla down and captured her. Carla was cornered and claimed Tim planned everything, forcing her to help him. She claimed she had been on the run ever since, too frightened to contact Marco, believing he would kill her. She told the men, she had secured the money and if they took her to see Marco, she would tell him how to get it all back. It was all lies, of course; Carla needed time to find a way out of the mess she was in. They were now on the last part of the journey to Marco’s home, as they passed the very frightened, Max Fortune.

Chapter - Carla’s plan.

Carla laughed falsely at the light banter, taking place between her and the four men in the black Mercedes. She sat in the back between Steve and Pepe.

Steve was from the Gorbals, in Scotland, an ordinary looking man of 30, close-cropped light brown hair, masking his premature baldness. His quick wits and ability to handle himself well in a fight, got him a place on the team.

Tonight, he was as wound up as a coiled spring; a Cobra ready to strike, and he had good reason. He had recommended Carla and Tim make the drug deal near Caserta, but they had pulled a double-cross. If she did not come up with the stolen money when they delivered her to Marco, he was history!

Pepe liked to think he was in charge. Older than the others, he knew better, or so he thought, but he was actually just useful muscle, very loyal to Marco and there just for the ride. Pepe was planning retirement soon, to spend all his time with his young wife and her 5-year-old son. Pepe’s thoughts drifted off to the last time he had seen his Mexican beauty, two weeks ago. He thought of the few hours of passion they enjoyed together before Philippe gave orders to find Carla.