I barely got any sleep last night, tossing and turning in bed, thinking of close to a hundred ways of how it would go down.

Who was the person who sent me that message? Should we even trust them? What if that person works for Felon and we are walking right into a trap? Should I ask Breton for help? What happens if our cover is blown?What would Zari do if she was here?

The next morning, I had to gulp down three whole cups of coffee to keep myself awake. And I never drank coffee, too bitter. I glanced over at Viktor who looked nervous as well while chewing on his pancake.

After breakfast, we took a taxi to the docks and the taxi driver looked at us with fear in his eyes, telling us gang riots were happening there every month. Viktor and I glanced at each other without saying anything but I knew exactly what he's thinking; it's the right place.

Looks like the person was not lying.

It took us a good forty minutes to get there and I had dozed off for a few minutes during the ride. Once the taxi driver left, I looked around. There was not a single person to be seen. I could also smell the strong stench of alcohol, beer cans lying around. I checked my phone for the time—11:16 am. I guess that was still considered early for drug dealers and gang members.

"We'll have to walk at least twenty minutes to get any form of transport from here. It would make sense that no civilians would want to live nearby," Viktor said, looking at his phone.
"Right. So how do we approach this?"

He looked up and scanned the area. "There's a bar here, which I'm guessing could be a good place to poke around first. We can't exactly barge into their warehouse."

"Okay, then. Lead the way."

Five minutes later, we stood outside the bar Viktor had mentioned. It looked rundown, beer bottles and cigarette butts lying on the side of the road. The lights were on inside, so at least we could talk to someone.

To my surprise, the inside of the bar actually looked... decent. The tables were wiped clean and there was no litter on the ground. A middle-aged man was resting his head on a table. I guessed he had had too much to drink and had passed out.

"Haven't seen you guys around here before," a deep voice startled me. It was a woman, around her forties, rearranging the bottles on a shelf.

"Well, we're new in town. Just staying for a couple of days to get the supplies," Viktor replied. 'Supplies' as in drugs, he was catching on fast.

The woman nodded as she put the last bottle onto the shelf and walked towards us. "Where are you guys from? I don't recognise that accent."

"Russia. Can I get a beer?" Viktor took a seat, and I sat beside him.

"Yeah, sure. Anything for the lady?"

"Lemonade. If you don't have that, water is fine."

"A beer and a lemonade coming right up." And she walked to the shelf to grab two cups.

"I'm just gonna let you do all the talking," I whispered to Viktor.

"Wasn't that the plan anyway?" he whispered back, winking at me.

Idiot.

"There you go. Total will be 250 Baht." The drinks were placed in front of us.

"Keep the change." Viktor gave her a small smile.

I took a sip of the lemonade. It was really good.

"Just out of curiosity, do the gangs here own guns?" he started probing.

"No guns. They're much more difficult to smuggle into the country than drugs. Wait, do you have a gun?"

"Nope. It's hard to sneak in guns past the airport security." As he chuckled, she did too.

Don't tell me he is seriously flirting with her! Ugh.

"So, who are you buying the supplies from?" Now we're getting into it.

"Felon. Heard he has the best heroine."
The woman shrugged a little before answering, "I personally disagree, I think Nersah has the best heroine. But Felon provides good cocaine."

"Really? Maybe I'll visit his operation after I'm done meeting with Felon. You know where it is?" Wow, he does know how to make a conversation.

"Her warehouse is right next to Felon's," she replied before turning to me. "So, why are you with him?"

" I'm his... niece." I figured I was too young to be his daughter.

She looked from Viktor to me and back again, squinting suspiciously. "Sorry, you two don't look related."

"My older brother married a Vietnamese woman," Viktor quickly bluffed.

"Interesting. How did they meet?"

Would this woman stop asking questions?

"College, actually. Both of them went to Canada to study."

Just then, a group of men—I counted four of them—walked into the bar. Thank god!
As she started speaking to them in Thai, I turned to Viktor. "Good to know we won't be shot on sight."

"Yeah, we better get going." He stood up from the stool, and started towards the door.
I quickly finished the last few sips of my lemonade and caught up with him.

A few minutes later, we stood in front of Felon's warehouse. The warehouse itself was ancient, at least half a century old. There was graffiti on the walls, unreadable as they were written in Thai. It has two stories, with a huge, red door right in front of us.

"What now?" I asked.

"There's a hole at the top right there—" Pointing to the second storey, he continued, "—I think we should take a peek inside first and see what we're dealing with."

We both walked to the warehouse behind Felon's to peek inside. It was definitely abandoned, from the looks of it. When Viktor and I opened the door, a huge wave of rotten fish stench washed over us, and I couldn't help but gag. That's the worst smell in the world.

"Let's just quickly find a spot with a good view," Viktor said, pinching his nose.

"Over here."

I counted at least twenty men in that warehouse and ten barrels, probably storing the drugs. All the men were Thai, except for one. He definitely looked European, and if I were to guess, Spanish. It was clear he was the man in charge, as he was looking through what seemed to be the account book and sorting out cash.

"The main person in charge is Spanish. So, is it safe to assume that Felon is Spanish?" I whispered.

"Yeah."

Suddenly, I felt a vibration in my pocket. I took out my phone; it was the same person who had told us about the warehouse yesterday.

'Friend?': Are you there now?

I showed Viktor the message.

Viktor looked at me weirdly. "You saved the person's contact?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, well, this person has helped us so far. So... should I reply?"

"I'll do it," he said and I handed him my phone, watching him type.

Me: Who are you? Why r you helping me?

The person replied seconds later.

'Friend?': We r on the same side here. I've been trying to track down Felon for over a decade.

Over a decade? Did this person know about me? About the plane crash?

"So?" I looked at Viktor, waiting for his response.

"Well, we can't trust this person since we don't know who they are. But as long as they are being helpful..." And he went back to typing.

Me: Have you been in one of Felon's warehouses before?

'Friend?': No. I've been in hiding ever since he came after my family.

I wondered how many were affected by him. He sure did a number on Viktor's and my family.

Me: I'm looking into Felon's warehouse right now. I can assume he is from Spain as the men in charge of the warehouse are.

'Friend?': Ok. Be careful.

Be careful? Why did this person even care about me? Wasn't he or she just using me to get to Felon?

I shook off my thoughts. Both of us had the same goal, so I just focused on that.

Viktor cleared his throat. "Alright, let's go buy some drugs."

"Wait, seriously?" I raised my eyebrows at
him.

"Yeah, isn't that what this is for?" He took out at least a few hundred dollars from his pocket.

We quickly made our way towards the door, trying not to throw up. But once we stepped inside, the last thing I remembered was seeing Viktor falling to the ground.