Grandad, Thereэ's head on the beach

thinker. He would have made a great detective but for this defect.

He walked past the first open bedroom door. A pig sty. Clothes piled everywhere. Dirty magazines beside the unmade bed. Empties. But the radio sound was coming from the next room. He edged along the tiled landing and stopped to steady his heart before peeking in through the half-open door. The blind was closed. There were two single beds. On one slept a young man in undershorts. He had cropped hair and was a wiry mass of muscles and scars. His mouth seemed to cave in on one side. The radio played him a non-stop lullaby of traffic reports and static, and he snored through it. Between the beds were two chairs, and draped over each was a full police uniform.

Two…

…chairs.

He felt the knife tip in the small of his back. It pricked his skin and probably drew blood. He yelped. He was sure he'd never get bloodstains out of that shirt.

'This is what they call a knife,' said a husky voice not far from his ear. 'It's sharp. The slightest shove and it'll carve your kidneys in half. So how about you drop that gun?'

The weapon clanged onto the tiles and woke the sleeping youth. This was Ben of the rat brothers. Half awake, he was an ugly and angry boy.

'What? What's happened?' he asked, jumping up from the mattress.

'We got a guest,' said Socrates, the ear voice. 'Didn't even have the politeness to ring the doorbell. And you know? I think when he saw you lying there all naked and sweaty- I think he had a mind to do you.'

'What? Whadya mean?' asked the youth.

'Well, you know who this is, don't you?' said ear voice. 'This is the queer one. Egg's office mate.'

'What's he doing here?'

'I told you. He's come looking for your bum.'

Ben was incensed. He paced the few feet between the beds as if he were trying to fathom it all. Chompu could see he was obviously experiencing some mental turmoil. Some inner yearning. He knew what to expect next. Ben, realizing he was barely dressed, grabbed a Thai manga comic from the foot of his bed and held it against his crotch. His modesty preserved, he fronted up to Chompu and poked a finger in his face.

'Is that it?' he shouted. 'Is that what you've come for? You're a pervert. You're dead.'

The second poke was directly in Chompu's left eye. The eye watered, but he was too numb to really appreciate the pain. The whole scene was as surreal as Janet Jackson's boob popping out at halftime in the Superbowl but perhaps a little more life-threatening. He was alert and aware but not as a participant exactly. There was a meditationlike clarity. Some mixture of Buddhism and shock. It was as if he were hanging on the wall with the lizards, observing his own impending humiliation.

Young Ben reached down to pick up Chompu's gun. He was shaking now. In a frenzy. Uncontrollable. Chompu felt the barrel bump into his temple, but there was still no here-and-now reality to it. No fear. In fact, he might have even smiled. The finger squeezing the trigger was seven centimeters from his eyes. It had a long dirty fingernail.

'Not yet' came the ear voice of Socrates.

'Why not?'

'Because I'm standing behind him, you thickhead.'

Ben was in a red funk that Chompu doubted the calm voice of logic could ever penetrate. But after a shudder, the gun was lowered and the youth sent a gob of spit against the policeman's cheek. Chompu looked down at the uniforms. This was why there was a fake truck in the yard. Why Egg was on the radio all the time. He needed to know where the real police were so he could send out his fake ones to pick up Burmese. Impersonating police officers was a serious matter, and he knew, once they were found out, there was no way they could let him go.

Live Internet feed. 6:30 P.M. Gulf of Thailand

(CAMERA-CLOSE-UP OF JIMM JUREE)

JIMM: We've been at sea now for an hour and a half. The constant drizzle has finally-let up, but the waves continue to bat us back and forth like a Ping-Pong ball. The conditions are taking their toll.

(CAMERA SCANS TO THE RIGHT TO THE REAR ENDS OF ARNY, WAEW, AND BIGMAN BEUNG, WHO ARE LEANING OVER THE SIDE OF THE BOAT. THE SHOT BECOMES UNSTEADY AND WE HEAR THE SOUND OF A FEMALE RETCHING OFF-CAMERA)

ED: (OFF-CAMERA) You all right there, Jimm?

JIMM: What? Why wouldn't I be? I'm fine.

ED: You just- JIMM: Shut up, Ed.

(CAMERA RETURNS TO THE PASTY FACE OF JIMM) JIMM: It's the elements. That's what puts woman in her place. Out here we are insects. We are termites compared to the power of the universe. But even in our little ant farm, we can demand justice and fair play for-

(CAMERA DROPS TO SHOW CLOSE UP OF JIMM'S FEET AND WE HEAR MORE OFF-CAMERA RETCHING)

'Do you think they'll be all right?' Mair asked. She was at the Internet shop, sharing a seat with Sissi, watching the screen.

'They're on a boat in a monsoon sea,' Sissi reminded her. 'They might even capsize before they reach the slavers. But that's why it's so great.'

'It is?'

'Of course it is. You couldn't write a better script. Who's going to move away from their computer with this all going on? It's so tense.'

'But what if they…I don't know…die?'

'Exactly. That's the spirit. It's the ultimate thrill trip. There's no Hollywood-ending clause. The tension's real because the actors are expendable. And look at that, Mair. We've got fourteen thousand real-time viewers online. That's more than Susan Boyle's first day on YouTube.'

'But I'm serious. What if they don't make it?'

'None of us makes it, Mair. We all die. But how many of us get to die live on the Internet?'

'I suppose you're right.'

'Excuse me.'

They looked up, surprised to be disturbed by the spotty Internet shop owner who'd been sitting at his desk watching customers turn away from the locked glass door. The five-thousand baht Sissi had handed him for the use of his establishment seemed to give him no pleasure at all. But now he was enthralled by what was happening in front of him.

'What?' Sissi asked. 'This is all real, isn't it?'

'It's taken you two hours to work that out?'

'I've been sulking. I can't focus when I sulk. Can Tweet about this?'

'The more the merrier,' said Sissi.

Live Internet feed. 7:30 P.M. Gulf of Thailand

(CAMERA-CLOSE-UP OF JIMM JUREE)

JIMM: We've been at sea now for almost as long as our last prime minister was in office. But we're just hearing some exciting news from Captain Kow in our lead boat. He's there at the handover spot. You'll hear the dialogue between the two captains over the radio. I'll translate as best I can.

(CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON ED)

KOW: I've held back as far as possible. The three squid boats are lit up like Bangkok. I'm dark here. I'm using my binoculars, and I can see that the three big boats have come together in a huddle around the ferry. They're… they seem to be sharing out the Burmese between the three boats. I can't make out how many guards there are. It's far, and the conditions are shitty. But…wait. There's some kind of conflict. I can hear the guards shouting. It might…I don't know. It might be someone refusing to get out of-

(SOUND OF AUTOMATIC WEAPON CARRIES OVER RADIO)

ED: Kow! You all right? Kow?