My heart thumps. Sweat drips down my forehead, as I nervously peer round the wall into the dark, gloomy hallway. It is decorated with the odd torch, its light flickering in the darkness. On the floor beside me lies a trickle of crimson blood, gleaming in what little light there is.
I glimpse down the hallway again, checking my watch. It's time.
Silently, I creep down the hallway, keeping to the wall; senses alert to anything and everything. All of a sudden, I hear footsteps coming from behind me. I spin round, and instantly I find myself with a knife to my throat.
“Don't move a muscle.” the voice says to me, with a strong Dutch accent. “You vill follow me.”
Glancing down, I can still see the knife, glistening with the scarlet blood of the previous victim. Immediately, I know this is not an empty threat. I must act quickly, using the knowledge from all my previous training. I whirl round, and launch a vicious back kick while grabbing the assailants' wrist. Expecting the impact of soft flesh, I feel nothing but the emptiness of thin air.
“Try that again and this knife will enter your jugular.” the voice whispers into my ear, knife once again at my throat. I feel that it is a little closer this time. A bead of sweat rests on my forehead, possibly the last that I will ever perspire.
I am forced down the hallway; my shoes squeak on the cold floor. I feel my eyelids begin to droop, slowly but surely closing, as I drift away into a dreamless sleep.
I glimpse down the hallway again, checking my watch. It's time.
Silently, I creep down the hallway,