Jack looked at the trembling in his hands after he opened the heroin kit. He felt cold but he was sweating and the cramps in his stomach were becoming increasingly frequent. He knew it was only a matter of time before he threw up. It was obvious now that the drug was controlling his life yet he still found it difficult to accept that this was an addiction. He told himself it was still just a necessary part of his cover. And frankly it was still necessary. Ramon had to believe he was an addict. In the beginning, he had insisted on watching Jack shoot up because he wanted to be sure. Jack's addiction put Ramon in control; and Jack knew that Ramon was a man who needed to feel in control.

But so too was Jack. The combination of character and training had given him an authority, which at CTU he exercised cautiously but resolutely. It was a powerful weapon in his armoury. People listened to him because they knew what he was capable of. He had proven his capabilities and his integrity in the most challenging of situations. But here, in Mexico, he had to live as a different person. He told himself that he was still controlling events, waiting for the moment to strike. But while he was waiting – well, he was being controlled by Ramon and by his addiction. Ramon's reprisals scared him, and so too did the symptoms of withdrawal which were starting to dictate how he lived. He always fought the onset of withdrawal symptoms, disguising them for as long as possible when it would probably have been better for his cover to let Ramon see him when he was weak and sick and desperate for a fix. Like he was now. He groaned, partly in pain but more in anger that he had no choice but to put the needle in his arm. He put his gun down on the table next to the bed, strapped the tourniquet around his upper arm and began to pump his fist.

He felt sure that Ramon had something planned for him and that fear had been eating away at him for more than twenty-four hours. Well, at least the drug would numb the fear for a while he thought as he plunged the needle into his vein. He dropped the needle to the floor and lay back heavily on the bed letting the feeling of ecstasy wash over him and through him. His eyes were still glazed when he saw the door to his room open. Ramon walked in with Hector close behind him.

Jack struggled to sit up. The fear had certainly gone – along with his ability to concentrate, he noted as Ramon started to speak.

'Oh dear, look at our Jack now. He doesn't look very capable does he Hector?' Ramon looked at his brother and then turned back quickly to grab the front of Jack's shirt and pull him sharply off the bed. Jack landed unceremoniously in a heap on the floor. He attempted to stand up but Hector easily kicked him back down again.

'He's useless Ramon. Give the job to someone else. He can't even...'

Realising that this wasn't the beginning of a serious beating, Jack interrupted him,

'No, no, I'll be OK – Hector - Ramon - just give me a minute; please just give me a minute. I've only just fixed' he said, nodding at the needle on the floor next to him, 'just before you came in. I'll be fine in a minute. Please. Wait.'

'Stand up then Jack' Ramon said angrily, 'See if you can manage that at least'

Jack pulled himself to his feet and lent back against a solid chest of drawers. He looked Ramon in the eyes, hoping to convince him that he was fit enough to work. Now the addiction was really causing him problems. He realised this even as he struggled to concentrate. This wasn't helping his cover any more; now it was hindering his progress within the cartel. He needed to operate at a high enough level to be promoted by Ramon and Hector. Otherwise he wasn't going to get close to the contacts he needed. If he didn't convince Ramon this time, would the brothers ever give him another chance? And, shit, if he wasn't up to it this time – he'd be beaten again. And he'd deserve it. The thought made his heart sink. He wasn't undercover as a junky. He was a junky and he needed to get some control back. He pushed himself away from the chest of drawers and was pleased to find that he had regained his balance.

'I'm alright now Ramon' he said, hoping that he could convince him.

Ramon pushed him hard in the chest with the palm of his hand, but Jack stood firm. Apparently Ramon was convinced enough and Jack was relieved to hear him talk.

'OK. I've got a job for you Jack' Ramon said, 'It's straightforward enough – we need you to take some money to one of our suppliers and bring some stuff back. I want you to go because I know you won't mind trying it for us, checking that it's good shit.' He chuckled to himself. 'That is the advantage for me of employing a sad little junky like you Jack.'

Jack hung his head slightly, wounded by the truth in the words. He listened as Ramon continued,

'But this could be dangerous. We think the Rodriguez Cartel have been tracking our supply lines so just make sure they don't pick you up. If they do, you're on your own Jack.'

Hector picked up Jack's gun from the table and handed it to him. Jack took the gun and nodded slowly.

'OK', he said, 'When do I leave?'

'Now Jack' Ramon said. 'Right now. This is the address,' he explained, handing Jack a slip of paper. 'They're expecting you. Take Hector's car and check you're not followed.'

'Good luck', Hector added

Jack looked at the address and then returned the paper to Ramon. It was about an hour's drive away. Not far. He was pleased. This was the first time they had trusted him with work outside the compound. This was better than he had hoped. This explained the exchanged glances between Hector and Ramon. They had been assessing his suitability to be trusted with a real job at last. Yes, this was much better than he had hoped.