Charles sat in a small, sterile room, surrounded by the cold gaze of airport security. Thirty minutes ticked by before anyone bothered to attend to him.
Finally, a thin man with a sly smile sauntered into the interrogation room. "So, Mr. Brooks, how long have you been a drug dealer?" he asked, his eyes glinting with amusement.
Charles's face reddened with indignation. "What drugs? I told you that parcel clearly does not belong to me!"
The man chuckled, his smile growing wider. "Yeah, I know it's definitely not for you." He nodded, giving Charles a patronizing look. "Would you care to explain who the parcel belongs to, then? Who are you delivering it to?"
Charles's patience snapped. He sprang up from his seat, slamming his hands on the table. "Enough! I understand your games, and I know
