6
Naturally, I’m blindfolded prior to being shoved back into the
van. I feel like a puppet minus the strings. When the Poseidon Brothers stop
outside of what I can only guess is my apartment, some twenty minutes later,
and open the back doors of the van, they rip my blindfold off and unceremoniously
tell me to get out. They don’t have to tell me twice or even kindly, for that
matter.
Before I leave them, they hand me a
parcel that contains a smartphone encased in thick, heavy duty plastic, like
something the military or a construction crew might carry. The parcel contains
a couple thousand Euros. If this were the old days, it would contain a physical
map upon which I would draw a big X once I located the cave. Because, after
all, X marks the spot. But nowadays, a GPS-equipped
