One of them flashed a badge and said in a low voice “Come along quietly unless you want us to use the handcuffs.” He was startled. “Am I being a...rested?” “You’ll find out everything when we get to the precinct.” They took him out a rear entrance. Walking to the unmarked car they indicated, Travis wondered whether this was some sort of Homeland Security operation gone awry and he had been mistaken for someone else. Some wanted man, maybe a terrorist. He took out his cell phone and began to dial. He was English – tall and looked very mature to me – but I guess he was only around 40. It was very humid and he was wearing baggy shorts and an open shirt. He was very polite - spoke Cantonese fluently (my English was not so good then) and carried my bag through to my bedroom for me. I unpacked a few things – when I went back to the living room he was sitting on the couch. I’m sure he didn’t realize – but the first thing I saw was that he had no pants underneath the shorts and his (what. More

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