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Sample Chapter: The Final Game:
Chapter One

Cartagena, Colombia

They'd watched Paul Ford for a long time before approaching him to act as one of their representatives in Europe.

They liked his brutal way of dealing with people who appeared to offer resistance to his determined plans to make a great deal of money from importing drugs into the United Kingdom: it was something they understood and appreciated.

They could do business with someone like that and they wanted him on side, so they baited him, slowly over a period and then reeled him in, just like a fisherman reeling in a salmon on a hook.

Because he was, in their eyes, now their man in the UK, Ford had a lot of flexibility when he visited Cartagena. He maintained an opulent flat in a tower block in the centre of town and was never short of glamorous females at his beck and call.

He became something of a socialite after dark in Cartagena city centre, often drawing attention to himself because of his generous way of keeping his friends happy with regular supplies of cocaine.

When his dealer suddenly moved away, Ford felt his immediate inability to continue maintaining his status as a supplier to friends was not something that he could allow to last. He had noticed that already some of the beautiful girls he normally associated with were avoiding his calls and, as far as he was concerned, having no cocaine meant virtually a stop to his parties!

Ford then had a brilliant idea.

His influence with his employers in Cartagena extended to free access to the offices and underground stores inside the walled city, why not use that to his advantage in the short term?

Business meetings with the Cartel took place in offices next door to where millions of pounds worth of cocaine, sourced from across some of the most productive parts of the country and donkey-packed into Cartagena, were stored awaiting shipment to Europe. They would not miss a little bit. And anyway, once he got a new supplier he could replace what he had taken and no one would be any the wiser.

At first it was simply a few grammes here or there, nothing large or noticeable. He was able to wander past the guard on duty into the stores and secrete some of the smaller packages inside his jacket. On leaving the stores, he always stopped and talked to the guard just to front out the possibility of suspicion.

Ford got away with it every time, thus increasing his confidence. The amounts of the cocaine that he was pilfering began to increase in size as he regained his popularity on the party scene. The parties began again and he was soon enjoying having his pick of the girls and enjoying life to the full once more.

In order to maintain the level of his supplies, Ford soon began driving in to the walled city in his car so that he could load a kilogram sack into his boot. He planned such visits when the guard left the stores unattended for a few minutes to change shift. He reasoned that he would not be suspected because he was such a regular visitor to the walled city. Anyway, they had so much cocaine there they would probably never miss the comparatively small amount that he was taking.

Of course his luck eventually ran out. Although Ford did not realise it, all of his visits to the stores had been closely monitored by cameras discreetly hidden within the stores.

The Cartel discussed the matter and decided to act. It wasnít so much the quantities that worried them, it was the principal. The gringo had been caught stealing from the hand that fed him. If he was allowed to get away with it, then others might try to do the same thing. Why, even the local Chief of Police might think that he could steal from them!

* * * *

A few nights following the meeting of the Cartel, Ford took home a particularly attractive young blonde woman who had excited him when he saw her hanging off a chrome pole at the local lap dancing club. Within minutes of entering his flat, she glanced around and went immediately to the glass table in the centre of the room and began laying two generous lines of cocaine out on the glass table.

When Ford returned from the kitchen with two large glasses and a bottle of champagne they made a start. It was not long before both of them were devoid of any clothing and enjoying the cocaine and the champagne.

They soon graduated from the floor to the main bedroom where Ford lost no time in exploring the girlís body. His tongue was soon running along her vagina and back again, his hands cupping her tight bottom. The sweat was dripping from his body and mingling with the perspiration from her body.

She lay on her back and using both hands was manipulating Fordís penis in a way that he had not experienced before. He was ecstatic.

He knew he could keep going for days without a break such was the level of excitement caused by the alcohol and the designer drug. Ford considered he was unstoppable. She would do his bidding whatever was involved. She had no choice; she was his guest and plaything.

* * * *

At three in the morning Ford became dimly aware that the door to his flat had parted company with both the door locking system and the hinges. The door hit the passageway wall and came to a stop as four employees of the Cartel rushed into the flat and made straight for the bedroom.

Two of the men grabbed Ford and dragged him off the bed. They slammed him back against the bedroom wall and held him upright. A third man then began to punch Ford solidly about the face. Ford felt his nose break on the second punch. Blood began pouring from his wound and dripped down his front. The man then changed his attack to Fordís ribs and chest.

The fourth man, a huge man for a South American, watched his friends dealing with Ford for a few moments before turning his attention to the girl, now sitting up in the bed and looking with horror at what was happening to Ford. He seized her by the hair and dragged her struggling from the bed and draped her over the bedrail.

He spread her legs, unzipped his fly and forced his penis into her anus. She screamed with the pain as he forced himself deeper into her and began a rhythmical motion backwards and forwards.

When he had finished, the man who had been punching Ford, clearly bored with his task, crossed the room and after speaking to the big man unzipped and dropped his trousers and forced himself into the girl. When he had finished with the screaming girl, both he and the big man dragged her to the open window and threw her out. She plummeted still screaming to her death five floors below.

Without hurrying, the four men, carrying Ford in much the same way as natives would carry a dead beast, left the flat and made for the exit. There was no one to complain. No one would dare complain, not if they wanted to carry on living another day.

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