The negotiation in Blacksand was far more perilous than anticipated.In that abandoned port warehouse, I spent six grueling days in a standoff with Salazar and his dozen gunmen.On several occasions, I had gun barrels pointed directly at my forehead.Finally, just as I used my final piece of leverage to force his signature, rival gangs in the town turned on each other, and a fierce firefight erupted.The bodyguards who came with me fell one by one, covering my retreat. I hid behind a solid concrete barrier. Flying shrapnel sliced open my arm, the blood quickly staining my trench coat crimson.Leaning against the freezing wall, I booted my encrypted device, took a photo of the signed treaty, and sent it to San Celano.As the progress bar crept forward, bullets rattled fiercely against the tin roof, and muzzle flashes flickered violently through the bullet holes.In that moment, a flood of memories surged over me.The hallway light in the orphanage that was never fixed on cold winter nig
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