Freddie never calls me Danny, always by my former rank. From thousands of miles away, I view the same Bahamian CCTV images on my laptop. Freddie’s i... jogging bottoms, his shrapnel-scarred torso soaking up mid-morning Caribbean sun by the pool. Behind Freddie my wife Agnes, a lean, blonde Nordic beauty, is oiled up and sunning on a comfortably padded lounger. I hear my splashing girls through my left earpiece. I calmly see the drama regarding three large men armed with pistols unfolding, Freddie. That had him stuttering I can tell you, but I persisted, and he admitted he did so I laughed and said I was flattered, had he some photos or did he do it from imagination, he didn’t admit to the pictures, said he just daydreamed of me, but he would love some of me if I wouldn’t mind!” she paused blushed again then said, “so I agreed to pose for him, said that if he ever, showed them to anyone I would never trust him again, but if he wanted a couple in my nighty then I would be turned on to. More

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