Tango Down: White Powder on Tap

By David Horne

'Tango Down - White Powder on Tap' is a gripping crime thriller that is unimaginable, unpredictable and intriguing beyond comprehension. It all begins with one dramatic life changing event for Jack Murdoch - being arrested for trying to smuggle over a kilo of cocaine into Bangkok. Jack has to quickly deal with the reality of spending the rest of his life in jail or facing the death penalty handed down by Thailand’s infamous hanging judge.
Being caught with cocaine in his possession during a random drug search at the airport was obviously a set-up to gain access to Jack. Faced with only one option for survival and one chance to get out of his four meter by two meter cell; Jack is forced to accept the offer presented to him by two CIA recruiting agents. By doing so, Jack has just entered into the dangerous and unspoken world of international espionage, cyber warfare, drug smuggling, illegal weapons dealing and corporate corruption.
As a part of the deal, Jack is flown to the United States where he begins living a double life as an FBI informant spying on the world's biggest arms dealer, Radov Nicic, who also happens to be one of his closest friends. Jack did not know what he was signing up for, but once in, there was no getting out. If he betrays the CIA, he will be immediately sent back to Bangkok to face the death penalty. Or even worse, spend the rest of his life in a dark, small prison cell surrounded by violent, psychopathic and disease ridden inmates.
This mix of power, drugs, violence, greed, corporate corruption, and deep-seeded hatred for the USA collides when an entwined network of individuals and groups with their own agenda explodes when least expected. What happens next flies under the radar of the average citizen going about their daily life. What eventuates is a series of unexpected twists and turns that puts everyone's life in danger. How it all unravels and ends leaves even the most highly trained and experienced US intelligence agents struggling to make sense of what is the greatest threat to America's national security since 2001.
What you will find from 'Tango Down - White Powder on Tap’ is a masterful and exhilarating exploration of bravery and betrayal by the most unlikely of heroes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Horne
• Release date: Jun 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301755233

David Horne

David Horne is a published author of more than 24 eBooks as well as the founder of “eBooks International.” David Horne is a successful top-selling author, membership site owner, online marketer, founder of global company “eBooks International” and “Media International.” As an eBook marketing specialist David has advised and guided many authors, entrepreneurs, and companies to online success. eBooks International has a portfolio of well over 150 eBook domain names and websites. eBooks International have created the self-publishing community and Academy for authors and writers at www.eBookAuthorAcademy.com David advises clients on eBook marketing, building their brand and author platform, publishing options, and also trends within the digital publishing industry. As a consultant to the digital publishing industry, David has advised and coached (via his eBooks, public speaking engagements and websites) thousands of successful writers, publishers, and companies.

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Prologue

My life took a dramatic turn for the worse and quickly spiralled out of control when confronted with having to face the 'Hanging Judge' in Bangkok for smuggling a kilo of cocaine into Thailand. Bangkok was well-known for being home to one of the most unforgiving judicial systems that rarely sided with an alleged drug smuggler. Unless you had some incredibly conclusive evidence to prove that you were innocent, there was little chance that you would be set free. If spared the death penalty, I would likely be given a life sentence and spend the rest of my life in one of the most violent, dangerous and notorious prisons in the world. Most would consider the death penalty a better option.

Bangkok prison was unfit for any human, let alone a twenty-two year old westerner who had come from a good upbringing and a life of innocence, love and happiness. The jail I now found myself in was over-crowded. Cells designed with a maximum capacity of housing ten prisoners now resembled an animal pen where up to twenty prisoners slept shoulder to shoulder on the faeces stained concrete floors. Each cell had only one toilet to share amongst all prisoners. There was no privacy due to the lack of a wall surrounding the toilet. It was in the corner, open for all to see. Forget about the personal luxuries of the western world as there was no toilet paper. The only time one could come close to achieving some level of cleanliness and hygiene was during the twice a week visit to the communal showers. This, however, was the most dangerous time of all as you were even more vulnerable to attacks from fellow prisoners. Disease was rampant amongst inmates. Suicides were a weekly occurrence.

Fights broke out daily and the threat of being raped was almost guaranteed unless you belonged to a known gang that already had members inside to help protect you. Foreigners stood little chance. My survival was solely dependent on the prison guards. Most were corrupt and the only way to guarantee my survival was by paying them bribes. The more I paid, the more they would up the price. It was not uncommon for the families of foreigners jailed to pay in excess of a hundred thousand dollars to secure the safety and release of their loved one. This type of money was well beyond what my family would be able to find. Besides, as far as I was aware of, they did not know of my whereabouts or that I was locked away in a Bangkok jail.

I was put into isolation in a two meter by four meter cell. The guards knew that if they put me in a communal cell I would be set-upon immediately. It was this fear of going into a communal cell that was causing me constant anxiety.

As I was sitting in my cell, memories quickly flooded back to my early teenage years when I remembered watching a news story about two foreigners who were executed in Bangkok for the same situation that I now found myself in. But for a lot less than what I was caught with. All it took was just fifty grams of cocaine to be sentenced to death in Thailand. I was caught with nearly a kilo of pure cocaine; twenty times the minimum amount required to be sentenced to death.

I had already been exposed to many difficult and life-threatening situations as I travelled throughout the world playing on the international tennis tour. Being arrested for drug smuggling was a set-up and I had no way of proving my innocence. It was my word against that of the airport security staff. My arrest was staged by those who had an ulterior agenda for me. Unbeknown to me at that time; I was considered a highly valuable asset by the United States government.

I was now locked away in one of the most dangerous prisons in the world waiting to find out my fate. My survival and freedom now depended on others. I was about to encounter the biggest life-changing decision I had ever faced. My life was about to take a sinister turn that no-one could have imagined. I was about to be thrust into the criminal underbelly of the world's dark side that was known to be ruthless, violent, secretive and where human life meant nothing.

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Chapter 1

Bangkok - Thailand

It was near midnight, local time in Thailand, when my flight landed at Bangkok International Airport. This flight from Sydney was the start of my second tour playing on the international tennis circuit. On previous tours I had always travelled with fellow players and coaches. This time I was on my own for the first two weeks. I preferred to travel with others as the loneliness and uncertainty that came along with going to foreign countries made the job of focusing on my tennis game more difficult. Knowing that I would only be alone for two weeks eased my mind.

As our plane taxied to the airport terminal, the captain welcomed passengers to Bangkok. This was followed by a message from the inflight crew announcing that we would be having a brief stopover to refuel and allow for the airport staff and cleaners to come onto the plane to perform their cleaning duties and replenish food supplies. With my body clock already out of whack due to crossing over several time zones; it was one of those annoying stop-overs that just threw my entire body further out of balance as it was around this time that I was accustomed to being asleep.

Are you Jack Murdoch? asked the flight attendant as I entered the terminal.

Yes, I am.

I just wanted to confirm with you that your luggage will stay on this same flight and that you will be able to collect your bags when you arrive in Japan.

Thank you! I said as I continued to follow the departing passengers in front of me. Most passengers made themselves comfortable in the terminal lounge located immediately outside the boarding and departure gate. I decided to stretch my legs and go for a walk. After all, I had a tournament to play the following day. I needed to stay active so walking was the better option. I decided to walk around the airport terminal to help pass time. All of the shops were closed except for one small coffee shop which was empty. There was an eerie silence with few people around and only the noise from the cleaners polishing the floors could be heard. I continued on window shopping, trying to pass time.

Just before 3:00 am, according to my watch, I heard the call for all passengers on my flight to return to the departure gate and prepare for re-boarding. Already quite bored wandering aimlessly through the terminal; I was happy to hear the announcement and immediately made my way back to the gate lounge for departure.

I stood in line to go through the metal detectors. I placed my tennis bag and small carry-on bag on the conveyer belt to pass through the x-ray machine. I always took my tennis racket bag on board with me so I could place it in an overhead compartment as it was less likely to be damaged there than if it was placed underneath with all the other luggage. This in itself often posed problems, especially the inconvenience to other passengers. On one occasion, I had to deal with an angry Frenchmen who was unable to fit his carry-on luggage in the overhead compartments due to the size of my tennis bag. He was obviously not a tennis player as he started swearing about; 'who put their fucking guitar in the overhead compartments?'

No matter how many times I went through the metal detector it was always nice to get through without anything on you, or in your possession, triggering the alarm. I emptied my pockets of my wallet and other small items. I placed them in the tray being held by the security officer and then walked through the rectangular metal detector. No beeps! Instant sigh of relief. It was too late to deal with any hassles. I collected my bags and personal belongings. Over to the side, a security guard was singling out people for random baggage checks. He was positioned at a portable stand-alone table located just beyond the metal detectors. As was often the case, I was the one who was pulled up to have my bags checked. This was all procedure for me by now. Since the world had experienced the devastating effects of terrorism and September 11; it was now routine for me to be singled out as a potential target by airport security. I always matched the profile as a 'target suspect' by being male, physically strong, well-travelled and between the ages of 18 - 35 years.

I was politely asked by the customs officer if he could check my carry-on bags. Even if I had said no, he would have done so anyway, so I replied; 'sure, no problem!' The airport security officer opened the bag, ruffled around inside, paused for a second, and then looked up at me with an emotionless expression. I will never forget that look. He immediately pulled his radio off his belt. Even though I didn't speak the language, I could sense the urgency in his voice. Within seconds three armed guards swarmed around me, weighted down by the automatic weapons they were carrying and the 9mm Berretta's strapped to their thighs. It was as if they were just waiting for the signal to come over they were there that quickly.

The airport security officer pulled out a large plastic zip-like bag full of white powder. Oh shit, that's not mine! I yelled. An immediate sense of fear came over me. I had no idea what it was exactly, but cocaine was my first thought. I pleaded that I didn't know where the bag had come from. It's not mine - it's not mine! They didn't respond. I was always so careful about not leaving my bags unattended in airports due to people smuggling drugs in other passenger's luggage. I was familiar with the constant announcements over the public speaker systems at all airports warning passengers not to leave their bags unattended or accept anything from a stranger.

Where did this come from? I thought to myself. I was overcome with a sudden panic as the three airport security guards surrounded me. They were soon joined by another man and a woman in uniform. It all happened so quickly. The other passengers around me and in the departure lounge were also stunned as to what was happening.

Follow me! ordered the man in the neatly pressed business suit. They gathered my bags and the packet of white powder which by now I had suspected to be cocaine. I knew I was in big trouble. But how did it get in there? As an experienced traveller I always kept my bags close to me and never let them out of my site.

I was escorted down several corridors to a small room where I was then directed to sit down on the chair at the head of the table. In the room was; a long wooden table, several shelves on the wall with photos of what appeared to be important people, a television monitor in the corner, and no windows. The air conditioning was obviously not working as the heat was stifling and I soon started to feel a little nauseas. I wasn't sure if this was from the stress or the heat. Either way, I was sweating profusely as time passed slowly.

Two armed guards remained in the room with me while the others left. These guards said nothing. They must have known that I was in trouble and what lay ahead for me. Surely this was just some misunderstanding that would be resolved soon enough. There had to be a logical explanation as to why that cocaine was in my bag. It wasn't there when I left Sydney as they conducted a bag search there.

Within half an hour, two men in military style uniform came into the room. They opened the door with force and walked straight towards me. The taller guard grabbed me by my left arm pulling me up as he tightened his grip until his nails were pushing deep into my skin. The second guard stood behind me and pushed my chair away as it slid backwards.

Turn around! commanded the first guard that entered the room. I could feel the handcuffs being placed around my wrists and the immediate pain as he tightened them so they were digging into my skin. I asked for them to be loosened but received no response except to be grabbed by the elbow and pulled towards the door. Never being in handcuffs before; I felt an immediate loss of power and control. I was at the mercy of these guards and unknown men. There had been plenty of times in my past and throughout my travels that I encountered dangerous situations and had to fight for my life. But now, with handcuffs on, I felt a sense of losing all ability to defend myself if need be.

I was once again dragged through several narrow corridors of the airport before we eventually went out a back-door that led to a dark blue van waiting outside. It was pitch black with only a small light protruding from above the door that lit up the van and surrounding area. It was an eerie feeling as it was quiet, except for the sporadic roar from the engines of planes landing and taking off. I could see that there were already two men waiting in the front. Another guard was standing next to the back doors of the van which were already opened.

What about my bags? I asked. Again, no response came. The reality of the situation hadn't yet completely sunk in as I was still worried about my bags and thinking about how all of this would affect me during my next tournament.

Unable to use my hands to climb into the van, I was assisted by a guard either side pulling me up from underneath my arms. As I jumped up I miscalculated the height and hit my head on top of the van's ceiling causing a shooting pain down my neck which lasted for several seconds. Fortunately, I didn't cut my head and there was no blood. I was ordered to sit on one of the side metal seats that ran along the interior of the van. The guard then removed the handcuffs from my right wrist while leaving my left wrist still cuffed. He then attached that cuff to a metal hook on the seat next to me on my left.

I immediately started to panic as there were no windows in the van and I could already feel the heat from within. There was little air due to lack of ventilation. A wall separated the driver in the front from the back of the van where I was sitting. A small sliding window that allowed the guards to look into the back was drawn. I was still unaware as to where I was being taken. This move in taking me away from the airport to an unknown location was one that I knew was not good. I should have been able to speak to someone who would be able to help me. Surely I could speak to someone from the Australian Consulate. Instead I was taken away like a prisoner already found guilty of drug smuggling.

For the next thirty minutes I was thrown around in the back of the van as I had no seat belt on. I was unable to brace myself for each fall as the van went around a sharp corner as my left hand was still cuffed to the hook on the seat. The pain from the cuff digging into the skin on my wrist was excruciating, but that was the least of my worries. My greatest emotion at this stage was helplessness. I was only twenty-two years of age and I was being taken away to an unknown location and no-one close to me knew where I was. Often when I travelled, it was sometimes days and weeks between communications with my family back home. So I knew that I could be stuck here for a week before they even started to worry about where I was.

The van eventually came to a halt as I went flying across the metal floor again and nearly ripped my left shoulder out of its socket. This time my knee hit the corner of the metal seat opposite and I screamed in pain. It wasn't that I hit it hard, it just happened to hit me right on my knee cap. The pain was intense, but was short lived. The back doors swung open and I could see the same two men standing outside. They had obviously followed in another car. One guard jumped up into the back of the van, removed the cuff attached to the hook on the seat, and again put it around my right wrist.

Get out! Get out! he barked in broken English as he dragged me out. Unable to use my hands for support I rolled down to the back edge of the van where I was able to place my feet on the ground before standing upright. I was once again grabbed by the arms and forcibly taken away from the van.

As my eyes adjusted to the bright lights I saw a large concrete wall with barbed wire running along the top. Although it was still early in the morning and the sun was yet to come out; I immediately knew I was in a jail as there were guard towers strategically positioned along the wall. As I turned around and moved to the other side of the van I was facing a dirty old concrete building. I was initially blinded by the light being projected from the guard tower lights pointed in our direction. To my right, I could see an open yard surrounded by a barbed-wire fence. There was what appeared to be up to thirty men standing in this yard. I thought this was strange as it was night-time. Most had their shirts off and they were yelling excitedly. I could not understand what they were saying. This yard resembled a pen of caged animals.

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Chapter 2

I was hurriedly escorted to an open door. I could feel the spray of water pouring from a broken pipe that ran down the brick wall. Although it was hot and humid outside, I started to shake as if I was cold. But I wasn't cold. I was just overcome with fear of what was inside this building.

As I entered the building there was an immediate putrid stench that hit me. There was a noticeable lack of light. The old concrete walls were stained and dirty. The corridor was so narrow that only one guard could stand to the side of me while the other stood behind me. We eventually came to a large open room where I was quickly marched inside with both guards now holding me under each arm. I walked to the far side of the room to another door. As it opened I immediately noticed the distant noise of men yelling. I could feel my heart racing, it felt like it was about to come through my chest. The guards squeezed my arms tighter as I walked down the corridor and through a series of locked doors where the bars were just narrow enough to prevent even the smallest person from sliding through. I am not sure if their squeezing of my arm so tight was intentional, or just their automatic reaction to what lay beyond these doors.

Before arriving at the solid steel door at the end of this corridor, we took another detour as I was pulled into a side room. There were ten small cubicles in front of me with no doors. The handcuffs were removed and I noticed the indentations that were left in my skin. The relief was immediate; however, my wrists were too sore to touch. I stood there as more guards entered the room. Were they going to attack me? What was about to happen? An older man in a suit walked in and the guards immediately stopped talking. He stood there staring at me for a minute before he spoke.

Are you Jack Murdoch?

Yes.

Take off your clothes! He handed me a stained prisoner uniform. It was more like a jumpsuit without any pockets. It obviously hadn't been washed since the last prisoner had worn it. It stunk of urine and various other human body fluids. The right sleeve was stained in blood.

I had never been so humiliated before as I was forced to stand there naked while being strip searched in front of a group of at least eight guards who had come into the room to see the new prisoner. It was obviously a bit of a novelty for them as I was a foreigner and the interest had drawn a crowd. Once the highly invasive search had finished and I was in my prison uniform, I was taken over to a side table where I noticed my bag. They had removed all of my clothes and personal items and scattered them along the table. The guard sitting down placed the bag of white powder in my hands and told me to look at the camera. Another man was busy taking photos. I was forced to hold the package in various positions as photos were taken.

It was like a badge of honour for these guards in catching a foreigner trying to smuggle drugs into their country. They were laughing and speaking in their native Thai language. Several of the guards were lining up next to me as they took photos on their personal camera phones. After they had finished their humiliating photo shoot they then placed the handcuffs back on my wrists. This time the pain was amplified as they rubbed against the raw skin. I was then escorted out of the room. We immediately turned left and entered through a steel door which was at the end of the long narrow corridor. Up until this point we had only gone through doors with bars. I knew behind this solid bolted door was where the prisoners were being housed. I could hear the noise coming from behind the door even though it was still quite muffled. As soon as the door was opened this noise became deafening. I immediately saw a row of cells on the left hand side that were three levels high. To the right was a brick wall with some windows positioned half way between the concrete floor and the roof. On the ground along this wall was a line of makeshift mattresses that prisoners were sitting and lying down on. Overcrowding had forced them to be placed outside of the cells.

It was chaotic. There was a complete sense of lawlessness and lack of authority. It was no wonder the guards went in there in a large group and with force. As we moved along the cells, the guards who now numbered over ten, had their batons out and were hitting any prisoners who dared to get too close. Meet your new family! said one guard, as the other laughed. In here we all live together. Murderers, gang members, rapists, psychopaths and drug smugglers!

As we walked past the third last cell an unknown fluid was thrown at us. It hit the guard who was closest to the cell directly in the face. He immediately became enraged with anger as he tried to wipe this fluid off his face. He ordered for the door to that cell to be opened. Once opened, the guards rushed in and pulled out the man who had thrown his own faeces at us. They threw him up against the brick wall where all other prisoners could see him. He was then set-upon by up to four guards who beat the hell out of him until he was unconscious. It was difficult to watch as he lay there helpless while being attacked. The guards left him lying in a pool of blood on the ground as they then paraded me in front of the cells. Those inside were banging on the cell bars with any object they could find. They knew I was a foreigner. I was terrified. The overcrowded cells were packed full of enraged and excited prisoners. Inhumane and not even fit for wild animals, let alone a foreigner who was innocent!

I eventually arrived at the last cell where they jerked my arm back before telling me to stop. They opened the door and pushed me in. It was maybe two metres wide and about four metres long. They slammed the door shut behind me. Being claustrophobic I immediately started to feel a panic attack coming on. It was unlike the cells I had just walked past. It was much smaller, darker, smelled of urine and there was nothing in the cell except for a blood and urine stained concrete bed and a disgustingly dirty toilet. I immediately grabbed hold of the bars to try breathe in some air even though it was filled with a putrid stench.

I didn't want to look behind me as the three enclosed walls would only send me into a massive panic attack. The only comfort I had was that I was in the cell alone. No other caged animals to worry about. The cell was so narrow that I could nearly touch both side walls when I stood with outstretched arms. Trying to fight the panic attack was not working. I couldn't breathe and the only way to reduce these feelings was to face the bars and hope that I would be able to regain control of my thoughts and breathing.

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Chapter 3

Three days had passed since I arrived that Friday night and no-one had come to my cell to visit me. The only time I saw a guard was when the occasional plate of gunk that barely resembled food was being pushed through the small opening in my cell door. On two occasions my food smelled of urine. I knew someone must have pissed in my food so I couldn't eat it.

The noise never ceased. There were men constantly screaming out, some were crying, others were banging on the metal bars and the sound of what seemed to be sporadic fighting from different cells. During the first two nights, the men located outside the cells in the communal area would come over to my cell, then yell and scream at me. I couldn't understand what they were saying but I had to stay near the back wall to avoid them spitting on me. This only made me feel more claustrophobic.

In the misery of this prison, late afternoon on day four into my incarceration, there was a sudden increase in noise and commotion in the unit. I was by now somewhat accustomed to these men yelling constantly, but this was different. A line of prison guards marched into the block. As they rushed in, in military formation, a deafly silence fell upon the block. Something big was about to happen and it even struck fear amongst these caged animals who I had thought were unable to sense any feeling or emotion. There was a slight pause as the guards gathered in greater numbers forming a single line facing the cells. The prison warden walked in. He stopped in front of the third cell. As soon as he stopped, the yelling started again from the men in surrounding cells. It was as if they knew they had been spared and were not about to face what was about to be dished out to those men in the cell chosen by the warden. The warden yelled for the cell door to be opened. I could hear the guards rush into the cell and then forcibly drag out the screaming men. They lined up six men against the opposite brick wall. I was now able to see them. The guards stood in front of the men where they waited for a minute without saying anything. The men were pleading. They knew what was coming