The day started like many before it. I put on my blue skirt suit and white shirt, a yellow neck chief, and court shoes. It was an outfit utterly unsuited to the 30-degree climate I worked in as a holiday rep. The jacket made it worse; however, I’d take it off at every and any opportunity. I’d spent many a mundane day sweating in these clothes with nothing interesting happening except the odd guest wanting to complain to someone about trivia. Today didn't go that way. Right now, I was on my knees on the patio of one of our hotels, held hostage by terrorists. They had a gun pointed at my head and had thrust a photo in front of my face. I knew the picture; it was one of our biggest clients whose father owned most of the seafront, and I knew this meant bad news. I tried to play stupid, but they didn't fall for it, and I feared they would execute me on the spot. So I had to; I had no choice. I pointed to her hotel. What happened next, I will never forget.