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- FROM HEAVEN TO HELL -

about the task ahead. That was the first time I'd thought about what would happen if we got nicked, but I kept telling myself not to worry, as Luke had assured us that all the Customs staff had been paid off.

Then, finally, the day that we'd been dreading arrived.

We'd been contacted again and told to expect a jeep to pick us up outside reception at 11 a.m. The same clapped-out motor showed up, and we got into the back and started heading out of Caracas.

Away from the tourist area near the hotel, you could see that this was a poor country. There were kids dressed in rags and scrawny dogs everywhere. All the cars looked ancient.

We drove about thirty minutes out of the town, up into the mountains, and eventually pulled up outside a block of dingy-looking concrete flats. We went up to a flat on the third floor of a block, and straight away we knew we weren't hanging around with wealthy people any more.

I'd been expecting a glamorous pop star's apartment, or a Mafia mansion — something out of Scarface. But this wasn't even Coronation Street. In fact, it was more like City of God, that movie set in the slums of Rio de Janeiro. All the apartment contained was an ancient black and white telly and a battered old cooker, while the smell of the place was vile — this was definitely not like a drug dealer's house from the movies.