I was sitting in a bar in Malta, waiting for my contact with a briefcase full of something unsavory, drinking the local excuse for beer, listening to a guy from Wales explaining the power of the Hulkamaniacs, when it occurred to me I needed to have my medication checked. Seriously, I have no recollection as to how I actually got to Malta, nor do I remember exactly what was in the case, or if ever I knew. All I can remember is that I was supposed to get it to Serbia and that the man at the other end would finish paying my fee.
I do remember that girl at the end of the bar though, but it would be hard to forget her after all the trouble she caused. Still, how many of us haven't gotten on the wrong side of the Mafia now and then over some little cutie in a bar? She’s fine by the way, living under an assumed name some place nice. That’s all the detail you need. Pretty sure there’s no one left alive with a grudge, but you can never be too sure.
I did eventually get the case into Serbia, and got myself out, but that’s a story for another day.
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