His voice remained remarkably controlled.

Every command was delivered with the precision of someone who had faced life-threatening emergencies countless times before.

Listening to him, I might have believed that rescuing me was simply another operation he had been trained to handle.

But his hands told a completely different story.

They were trembling.

The morning of the trip had begun like any other argument about money.

At 7:10, Michael slipped a bank envelope into his coat before I could read the name printed beneath the return address.