Chapter Four
Willemstad, Curaçao, Dutch Antilles
Tom woke early the next morning. His head was fuzzy. He had a vague recollection of dreaming about swarthy young Colombians with Uzis chasing him through the streets of Punda. The dream faded quickly from his mind. He tried to recall the details but it was like trying to grasp at smoke, and it soon faded entirely. The article had shaken him more than he was willing to admit.
A good run will clear my head, he thought. He pulled on a loose fitting gray T-shirt, put on a pair of baggy shorts and his tatty old Reeboks. Tom let himself out the door, into the fresh morning air, and started his morning ritual. He would run the three miles to the beach by the Clarion hotel. There he would do a series of sprints interspersed with some basic streng
