Bali, 2005

The man hadn't slept in several weeks. Nor had he eaten very much. The supposed working holiday had gone awry from the moment he stepped off the plane into the humid atmosphere that engulfed the foreigners like a hot, wet towel.

He'd noticed the attractive young woman on the plane of course. She & her companions were just ahead of him as they approached the baggage area. He didn't pay much attention after that, just grabbed his boogie board bag, walked past them & sailed blissfully through customs. "Home free!" he thought. Ignoring a sudden commotion behind him, he ducked out of the airport & made his way to the preplanned meeting point, where his contact, a rich Australian developer, who supplied to the local ex-pat community, would hand over payment for the contents of the bag. The money would allow him to enjoy a few days rest & recreation, before travelling on to Las Vegas, where the remainder would be very handy...

The Australian was pleased to see him & immediately asked to check the delivery contents. The preacher handed over the bag. "What the fuck - Preacherman? Where's my gear?"

Realisation sunk in. In his hurry, he'd grabbed the wrong bag... the commotion behind him...
"Customs discovered it!"
"Then how come you're not in a skanky jail, Preacher?" The Australian suddenly looked quite menacing.

They'd kept him confined after that, telling him he owed them for the gear, and would very likely not leave the premises alive should he not find some way to pay. They starved, and beat him. And worst of all, kept him constantly awake by playing loud Johnny Farnham music.

At a loss as to what else to do, he asked his captors for a phone so he could contact his old Special Forces buddy Albert, in Wellington, to somehow raise the necessary cash & extricate him from this mortal predicament.

Albert was not very happy as it turned out, this wasn't the first time he'd had to bail his unreliable comrade out of a tight spot, and couldn't honestly imagine where he was going to raise the significant sum necessary to prolong his life. But for old time's sake, he agreed to somehow raise the ransom & deliver it to Bali.

Some weeks passed. Finally, the man was taken from his secure premises to another house, possibly nearby, he couldn't tell, since they'd blindfolded him. But sitting around a well laid luncheon table were several dodgy looking men, and Albert. In front of his old friend was a bulging attache case.

The Australian developer motioned for the preacher to help himself to food & drink. The demanded Albert pass the case over.

Opening it, the developer paused... then looked up with all the signs of apoplectic rage across his face.

"What the fuck are these Old man?"

Albert looked nervous, and explained that in the time he'd been given, it was impossible to raise the money, so he'd come up with something even better : "$2 million worth of Big Wellington Department store gift vouchers" which he'd been surreptitiously setting aside over the years for his retirement.

The Australian was beyond incandescent with rage now, his minders were suddenly holding guns.

"You two are dead." he spat, and raised his hand to give the order.

"Wait!" shouted Albert, grasping for something that would keep them alive "They are redeemable at David Jones in Sydney!"

The Australian's arm stayed raised, but there was a definite cooling in the atmosphere. One of the gunmen crossed the room & whispered to his boss: "They have a wonderful food hall"

"The man slowly lowered his arm. Then gestured to his men to put their guns away.

"You're free to go." he said quietly.