The spotty shop owner was staring open-mouthed at the discussion before him.
'You,' said Sissi.
'Me?' said Spotty.
'You're in charge here.'
'I am?'
He seemed delighted. Sissi explained the set-up and the ongoing maintenance. There was an external block he needed to keep an eye on to see if anyone was trying to hack into the system to shut down the site. There was also a backup site if anything went wrong. Everything was explained in some alien nerd language and understood. Mair looked on, impressed at how wonderful her eldest son had turned out.
Piper Porterfield was sitting in her office at Hope for Myanmar, playing spider solitaire on her laptop. Hers was a hardship posting, and she missed decent wine bars and civilized Western culture. Mae Hon Song was a bustling northern town, but it was so rural. It didn't even have an English-language cinema or a deli worth its salt. She invariably delayed going home to sit in her uncomfortable living room beneath a ceiling dotted with lizards and the eerie sounds of God-knew-what insects buzzing in the trees outside. Only seven months to go before a return to civilization.
A chat box flashed in the corner of her screen. It was Pao. Pao had gone home at six but was still online doing her office management work.
Pao was into computer games. Piper was just about to dump the site, along with all the other annoying spam the girl sent her. But boredom made her cut and paste and click.
A scene appeared on the screen. The picture wasn't that clear. There were little pixel accidents here and there. But it was obviously a seascape looking out to the horizon. The dots of boats far away. And there was a voice-over that seemed somehow familiar.
JIMM: (OFF-CAMERA) We should be within eyesight of the three slaver ships in under half an hour. Under cover of darkness, our chances of sneaking up undetected are increased. The large boats will have their bright lights trained downward to attract the squid, and they shouldn't be expecting visitors. We've been trying to gather reinforcements. Captain Kow has been on the radio for an hour. But the karaoke finals are coming up soon, and it seems like the lives of Burmese take a back seat to those luxury consumer goods prizes.
Piper looked first at the counter on the top of the screen. If it was to be believed, almost half a million people had entered this site at some time during the evening. A logo indicated that what she was watching was concurrently live on YouTube. There was a button, bottom left, that apparently led to Slaver Hunt Home. She clicked it. She was taken to an unspectacular homepage, which explained that Jimm Juree and her small band of heroes had set out at four this afternoon to rescue seventeen kidnapped Burmese from three slave ships. The Burmese were under armed guard. Jimm and her crew had just the one weapon. They were alone in the Gulf, a lawless no- man's-land. The odds were considerably against them. Et cetera.
To one side was a column of times. By clicking any time, you could see a replay of what had happened then. Important moments were tagged with a skull and crossbones. The whole thing looked as if it had been put together in a hurry. The artwork was shoddy. But it all did the job. The girl, Jimm, leaned a little too heavily on cliches and drama, and her English accent needed work, but there was no doubting her determination. The amateur nature of it all made it just that much more credible. This was powerful stuff.
Piper reached for her telephone.
Live internet feed. 20:24 P.M. Gulf of Thailand
(COMPUTER ON NIGHT SCOPE EFFECT)
JIMM: I've just worked out how to switch on the night vision. Sorry about that. In our wake you can see two small boats. One belongs to our hero of the night, Captain Kow, who bravely followed the ferry to meet the slaver ships. Behind him is the captured ferry, driven now by PI Meng, the private detective, who has asked me to point out that he's prepared to cut his rates twenty percent to customers who have been watching this live feed. He also produces excellent plastic awnings. And there are probably those of you out there wondering why I'm resorting to advertising at such a tense moment. It's partly because nothing has happened for half an hour, and I'm also feeling under pressure to-
GRANDAD JAH: (OFF-CAMERA) Jimm!
(CAMERA SWINGS CLUMSILY TO THE FRONT OF ED'S BOAT, WHERE WE SEE WAEW, BEUNG, AND GRANDAD LOOKING AHEAD THROUGH BINOCULARS.)
GRANDAD JAH: That's them.
(CAMERA SCANS THE HORIZON. ZOOMS IN ON THREE SMALL DIAMONDS OF LIGHT.)
JIMM: It's true. That must be them.
ED: All right. I'm turning side on. The other two boats can stay behind me. If the slavers do look this way, they'll see just the one squid boat out of its depth. They won't think too much about us.
JIMM: Why not?
ED: Because this is spawning ground. We're twenty kilometers out of the legal fishing zone. We're all criminals out here.
(CLOSE-UP ON JIMM)
JIMM: And so, our target has been spotted. The clouds have blocked the moon, so it's like sitting in a velvet glove out here. Soon we will advance on our prey. May the force be with us.
In a half-empty house you can feel the vibrations of a loud front doorbell.
'It's her,' said Ben rat.
'It's not her,' said Egg. He was standing at the upstairs window in the front room with the lights off. He had a clear view of the concrete front yard. It was lit by the porch lamp. 'It's a couple of hookers.'
Ben and Socrates rushed in from their room and joined Egg at the window.
'Did you two…?' Egg asked.
'Nah,' said Socrates. He glared at Ben. 'You?'
'No way,' said Ben indignantly. 'I don't need to pay for it.'
The bell rang again. There was nothing to see in the yard below until one of the hookers took a few steps back out of the shelter of the porch roof. She looked up at the window, and all three men instinctively took half a pace back. Short skirt. Heels. Low-cut top. Peek-a-boo hairstyle. Beautiful smile framed in crimson.
'I'd give that one,' said Socrates.
'Me too,' said Ben. 'If it was free, of course.'
Egg turned to look at them.
'You two do realize this probably isn't the best time to be thinking about recreation?' he said. 'We're just about to kill a couple of people.'
'I swear,' said Socrates. 'We've got a number, but we didn't call it. Not tonight.'
A second woman stepped back and waved at the window. If it was possible, she was even sexier than the first. They were both shouting, but the window was double-glazed to keep the air-conditioning in and the traffic sounds out.
'Maybe one of them's her,' said Ben. 'The Jimm girl.'
'Come on,' said Egg. 'You've both seen her. Does she look like either of those two?'
'Be nice if she did,' said Socrates.
'Doesn't look like they are going away,' said Ben. 'Lieutenant Egg, that one's pointing to your bike. She knows you're a cop.'
'I'll have to go talk to them,' said Egg. 'We don't want them hanging around when the girl arrives. You two stay here.'
Egg scrambled down to the front door. The two hookers were leaning against his bike. They were a lot older than they'd let on. They
'Get off my bike,' said Egg. 'What do you want?'
Sissi turned to Mair.
'See, Deang? I told you this was a police bike. I could tell by the number plate.'
'That's typical of you, Noy. You love to gloat about being right.'
'Who's gloating? I'm just telling you I know a police motorcycle when I see one.'
