As the song reached its ending, Casey jumped in the air, and landed exactly on the last beat, holding the pose for the count of two, and relaxing. “...hat was a good one,” I said, and meaning it, “you might get a place this time.” Casey looked at the clock on the wall, and said, “Aunt Stephanie should be here any minute now. We better tidy up and get ready for her.” There wasn’t really any tidying to do, just a matter of putting Casey’s practice mat and baton away, so as she grabbed her. Brandishing both Soviet and US made weapons, we tried running but an ageing photographer and a woman wearing four-inch heels were no match for them. Both Tess and I have an aversion to firearms, and rather than attempt a Rambo-like escape, we held up our hands in surrender. Thus began a twelve hour ordeal that was far harder on Tess than I. We'd heard of the 'rape squads' but never dreamed they were in the locale we were in.A bumpy and uncomfortable half-hour ride in the back of a Toyota pickup. More

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