Chapter 1:

Death in the World's Paradise

He stood there as the sun glared persistently on his face. He squinted a little but wasn't distracted to the point where he couldn't keep his eyes on the man across the small narrow road. Clay stood in front of the World's Paradise, a rich, but overall plain little hotel that looked over the ocean; the name of the hotel was derived from the slogan of the island. Clay initially wanted to smoke a cigarette but the heat was unbearable to him and he didn't feel like smoking would make it any better. There was a lot going on, on the street of the hotel two men were quarreling over the lost of a bet, a woman was loudly advertising the melons she wanted to sell, her baby crying and creaming at her ankles, the three boys playing marbles and across the street, the man he was watching talking to a group of other, less classy looking men, standing in a row that wasn't in any noticeable order, however to Clay they did look as if they were lined up from highest class to lower class, though the highest classman didn't look near the same level as the lead man. The lead man gestured vaguely, his arms moved in languid ways, not really making a gesture at anything but moving from sheer nerves, he also shifted his weight a lot, and from what Clay could tell it wasn't from impatience but yet some other kind of nervous tick. Clay noticed that the man and the people he was talking to were being avoided, the other people on the street, people passing by, natives, they all seem to avoid them. In fact that was the other thing that Clay noticed, all the men were foreigners. It wasn't that interesting, most of the businesses on the little island were owned by foreign companies, most of them American. American companies found themselves on this island simply because America was just too hard a place to refine a business in, it was easier to start a business here, fortify something that the locals couldn't live without and raise prices so they were profitable but slightly within affordable range and then expand the business.

That's why Clay was here, there was a business that had originated in New Mexico, the business moved from the state but transferred all its merchandise back into America, the American government had came to believe the business was trafficking drugs from the island into the country and warned the island's government to deal with the problem, the small island government found nothing though and sent a detailed report of their investigation back to the American government on the company's dealings. However that did not convince the American government that there wasn't anything going on. The C.I.A. initially couldn't do anything, they had no clue what drugs were being brought into the country and they didn't have any real reason to suspect the business, so what they did is what they were good at. Sneaking around. They sent Clay to find something wrong with the company, and for the last two weeks he had been following this man, from island to island and found absolutely nothing to accuse the man of, however this island was listed as his base of operations, so if he didn't find anything here he'd just go back and report on his findings, or in this case his lack there of.

After what seemed to be a long period of deliberation, the men broke up and the lead man quickly jumped into a car and it sped off somewhere up the road, Clay jumped into his own cab, he ushered for the man to follow in the cab to follow the other and picked up the phone installed into the cab and dialed.

"Yes…" Clay said a bit frustrated. "…It's almost been three weeks I haven't found anything, I'm following him back somewhere, will check in when done, over." Clay hung up the phone, and sat back, he could see the car ahead of him, it drove a quickly and moved through traffic on the narrow road. From the back window he could see the man talking to the driver as the sped in and out of traffic, when the car slowed down Clay had his driver back down a bit the speed at which they were driving was in itself suspicious, and the driver obeyed and slowed down, the car they were pursing stopped for a moment, before going down a alley that had no other cars in it.

"Sir?" the driver asked. Clay peeked around form inside the car. It didn't seem like a smart idea to follow him in the car, no one would follow this man unless they worked for him, it was obvious, he didn't felt there was any immediate danger however.

"Stay here…" Clay said as he took out his gun, he also picked up the phone. "…I've followed him to what seems to an old abandoned building complex, I'm continuing the search on foot." He put the phone down and patted his driver on the back.

"Be careful sir." The driver said.

"Don't worry."

Clay walked out of the car and down the alley in a slight jog to catch up with the car a bit. He peeked around corners, making mental notes of his surroundings. It seemed as if this guy owned the rest of the abandoned area, it was made of a series of buildings that Clay assumed could have easily doubled as manufacturing facilities on the inside, all the windows were tinted and despite the fact that the buildings weren't in the best of shape, it would take a good amount of money to get all the windows tinted. From what he could tell this was once a small town, when the businesses started moving in people moved into the interior of the city, and when this guy came along it was all just a bunch of property and all he had to do was pay for it. However it was obvious where the town square was, all the paths lead to the center, where a large building was. The largest of the buildings was obviously a manufacturing building, and there was a garage that the car he followed was parking in, Clay ran quickly and made his way inside unnoticed.

The inside was a complicated sight; the entire inside was a maze of different sorts of equipment, the entire place was alive with machinery and processing equipment. It was almost as if the building was alive and this was the inside of its body. There were plenty of crates everywhere, Clay took notice of them and most of them were from the island, some were from New Mexico and most seemed to be empty, he snooped around them and peeked around. He kept his gun at his side out in the open. It didn't make sense, there weren't any guards around anywhere. Clay wasn't sure if anything wrong going on here but still this man had gone out of his way to buy all of these abandoned buildings in such a remote part of the tiny island, if he was keeping something secret there would be guards around.

A strange crate caught his eye, and he looked around before, going over to the crate, he inspected it. The writing wasn't English, and it wasn't French either, which is what the natives sometimes spoke. In fact it was… Afghani. Clay felt a wave of adrenaline rip through him, he hadn't been aware that they were trading outside to Afghanistan, certainly the C.I.A. would find this to be an interesting fact. Clay had determined he had seen enough, and wanted to report back immediately. Clay turned to leave but he lights went out. Clay Gripped his gun, he knew he had been caught, it was obvious. The machinery shut off and the lights came back on. Clay looked left and right, he kept his gun ready, there was clanking around the giant building and it was loud, intended to frighten Clay. The lights went out again, but quickly came back on, more clanking but closer. Clay found a stack of crates to hide behind. The lights went off and on quickly and the clanking seemed to be right upon him. The lights went off and stayed like that for a while. Clay waited in silence, there was nothing, not even his heartbeat was going in a quick enough state to be heard, and then something hit his neck!

He jolted up and swung in the direction it had come from. The lights came back on and in front of Clay were a group of black beads. Clay kneeled down, and picked them up, he touched them smelled them and he thought he recognized the smell and if he were right then…

Clay threw a handful of the beads into his mouth and chewed. He was right, he picked up more. They weren't beads but seeds in fact.

"Poppy seeds?" Clay said to himself. That was the last thing Clay saw too, the cold metal on the back of his neck was there and gone in a second. Clay wasn't even able to process that he was being held at gunpoint before he was dead, a moment later the machinery started back up again.