<strong>Philip Redding, Agent<br/>Arriving by small boat at the docks</strong><br/><br/>Philip gave the fisherman who had given him a ride a small sum of money and a firm handshake before stepping off the small wooden boat and on to the dock. The tall, muscular, clean-cut young American narrowed his intense eyes and surveyed the area around him. It looked like a typical wharf district, with a few dozen fishermen and workers milling around, tending to their business. There we a few small shops or restaurants that seemed to cater mainly to tourists. All in all, nothing looked suspicious about the island.<br/><br/>Nothing would have told a casual observer that this was a place of legend in the world of international crime-fighting, a place where supposedly hundreds of people had disappeared without a trace. There were rumors that the Xantelli family that ran the island and surrounding waters had their hands in drugs and the slave-trade. Philip would say this for the island: it certainly had an innocuous cover.<br/><br/>Philip was supposed to be undercover as a regular tourist. He had arrived by ship-hopping with fishermen through nearby ports, not wanting to arrive on a cruise ship or anything else that would be easily notable. He knew that it was likely that his cover could be blown at some point, so he decided that arriving under the radar would give him the best chance of operating in secrecy for as long as possible.<br/><br/>Philip's "tourist" outfit consisted of mid-length black beach shorts, sandals, and a tight green t-shirt. He carried a duffel bag casually over one shoulder, which was filled with a mixture of dirty laundry and, carefully hidden inside balled-up socks or stitched into secret pockets, his weapons and spy equipment.<br/><br/>The first order of business was to find himself a base of operations. To that end Philip headed towards what seemed to be the hotel district, looking to find himself a place to get set up.