'They probably just get earthlights or something.' Danny could see Kurt wasn't following him. 'You know, like swamp gas, but generated by little fault lines.'

'Do you have to bring geology into everything?'

'You don't like talking shop?'

'You don't see me talking about building walls. Save it for class, man.'

'Whatever' The coffee-pot was ready, and Danny poured himself a cup.

'Still, the locals could be right about one thing - there could be animals out here.'

'It's the jungle,' Kurt pointed out. 'Of course there are bloody animals.'

'No, you know what I mean. Dangerous animals. Tigers or bears or something.'

Kurt shook his head slowly. 'Don't think so, mate. Not here. Snakes, though though'

Danny shivered. He hated wriggling things. 'Don't remind me. Snakes don't make ambushes, though, do they?'

'No, why?'

Danny didn't really want to answer, because it sounded paranoid and cliched, but: 'I got this feeling, you know, like we're being watched.' Kurt merely groaned.

Gibson couldn't hear what the two youths were saying, but he could see them clearly through his field glasses. "That them?' Harris asked beside him.

'Yeah. Taking a tea-break.'

'Lucky bloody them.' Gibson sympathised entirely with his companion. He and Harris couldn't risk a brew-up for fear of discovery. The two subjects might be unarmed, but you never knew for sure and there was always the chance of others being out here, equally well hidden.

'I know what it is,' Danny said, suddenly. Kurt loved the guy, but at times like this he wished he'd never met him. "The birds.'

'What birds?' Kurt couldn't hear a sound, and he wondered if Danny was nowhearing things. They shouldn't have tried that locally blended grass.

'Exactly. I mean, this is the jungle, right. I hear animal calls, but there should be bird calls and there aren't.'

'Yeah' Now that Danny mentioned it, that was a bit weird.

'Maybe they don't fly here.' Kurt's voice trailed off; he knew how stupid that sounded. He couldn't think of any reason why birds wouldn't fly in an area.

Not unless the weather was too bad or something. 'Ah, I dunno, I'm not an ornithologist.'

'Never mind the bloody birds,' Danny said, hushed. 'Look.'

Kurt followed the line of Danny's finger, into the bushes. At first, he couldn't see anything except the pattern of leaves and shadows. Then he realised that there were two adjacent patches of total darkness in spite of the afternoon sunlight - close enough and identical enough to be eyes, but animal eyes reflected light at their centres and Kurt saw no green or red glow. 'It's just shadows.'

'There's another one.' Danny pointed, and Kurt saw another pair of whatever it was that he refused to think of as eyes. 'And another.'

Though Kurt had no time for local superstitions, and was sure the area was safe from dangerous animals and the Khmer Rouge, he did feel a sudden instinct to get away. 'Come on.' He scooped up his backpack, not stopping to buckle it on properly, and started off along the narrow trail. 'Let's get the hell hell'

They were upon the men without warning. Small, cool and hairless. Thin but powerful fingers tore at their packs. At first, Kurt thought they were some kind of bare monkey, but then he realised their skin was shaded in green and black and that the patterns flowed like oil on water as the things moved.

That was when he began to scream.

Gibson and Harris watched, but didn't interfere. Any attempt to muscle in on the action would give away their position and jeopardise the mission.

Besides, they had already known they might see something like this.

Major Barry and Captain Clark were sitting on opposite sides of a Monopoly board, and Clark was winning. Barry had never been particularly into games, but she seemed to be an old hand at this one. Fishing was more his kind of hobby, and he would much rather have been waiting for news by the river-bank than in the hotel ops room.

The scrambled radio crackled into life and Barry was on his feet instantly, not least because it saved him from going bankrupt in the game. 'Ops, go ahead.'

'Ops, this is Steward.' It sounded like Harris, though the signal degradation caused by scrambling made it difficult to be really sure. 'We can confirm the subjects have rendezvoused with the targets. Repeat: we can confirm the subjects have rendezvoused with the targets. And that's putting it mildly'

Now Barry could hear the slight shake in Harris's voice, and wondered just what sort of 'rendezvous' he and Gibson had seen.

He was already focusing on the large-scale map. As far as he was concerned it was time for business. 'Understood. Meet us at the coordinates Captain Clark gave you. We're en route.'

'Coordinates confirmed.'

'Good work, guys. Out.' Barry motioned to Clark and the others who were sitting in the room with books or cards. 'No rest for the wicked. Hansen, you maintain this op centre; everybody else, time to get out of civvies and back into BDUs for a nice little field trip.'

Yi Chung's courage came and went like the passing of the tides, but by the minute rather than twice a day. Would Emily be grateful, or think he had stolen the wallet to stalk her, or would she simply be polite? Would she even be in, or would he be faced by a mother, sibling, lover?

Staring at the door to the apartment listed on her identity card, he still hadn't decided whether the wallet was good luck or bad. Though he wished it otherwise, he knew there was only one way to find out.

He straightened the collar of his silk shirt and pressed the doorbell button.

He heard neither chime nor footsteps but the door was opened promptly, and by Emily herself.

Some people are beautiful when angry, but not Emily Ko. Yi Chung knew she was a vision of loveliness when calm, but her disdainful expression made her look like a maiden aunt who'd smelt something bad. 'You?' She looked nervous when she recognised him. Though that wasn't the reaction he wanted, part of him was proud at the fear and respect he could inspire.

He tried not to show that part on his face.

'You dropped this,' he said, offering up the wallet. 'When you fell.' She looked at him and he felt she was looking through him. He was glad he hadn't picked her pocket for the wallet, because he knew with a sudden certainty that she would have seen it in his eyes if he had.

Her face softened, becoming prettier. 'I see.' She took the wallet and checked its contents. "Thank you.'

'I didn't take anything. I'm not a thief.'

'What are you, then?'

That was a difficult one to answer honestly. He couldn't say 'protection racketeer' or 'drug dealer'. 'I work at the docks.' It was the truth, at least on paper and as far as the tax office was concerned. He hadn't actually done a day's work in over a month, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

'Perhaps I could tell you all about it later.'

She smiled very slightly. It was only a slight smile, but to Yi Chung it was a beam of hope. 'Later? What makes you think we'll see each other again?'

'I was just going to ask you if we might. At a karaoke bar, or a movie.'

'I can't sing.'

'Neither can I.' He wondered what movies were on right now, as this looked like being the only option left. If she didn't like movies, then he was due a knock-back.

'Then I won't feel like I stand out at a karaoke bar.'

Yi Chung blinked in the middle of his mental film-reviewing. 'A karaoke bar?'

"That was one of the choices offered,' she reminded him.

'I mean& You're saying yes?' He cringed inside at the thought of how that must have sounded.

'You sound surprised.'

'I am.' He cringed again. 'I mean, I hoped you would.'

'Meet me outside at eight o'clock.'

He wanted to shout for joy. This was better than any of the presents he'd got at his birthday party. 'Eight it is.' He tried to think of a way to leave with a handy goodbye phrase that would leave her wanting more, but couldn't.

Instead, he backed off with a nervous smile until she shut the door.

Yi Chung knew his luck was changing. But, at this point, he still thought the change was for the better.

Chapter Five.

Being Careful Out There

The UNIT records covering Major Barry's team quickly fell victim to the military love of silence and shadows. According to unclassified files of other missions at UNIT-SEA's Singapore headquarters, a standard team in the field would consist of eight or ten people. Most of them would carry Heckler-Koch MP-5s, and at least one would be armed with a sniper rifle.

All would wear lightweight body armour and carry a Beretta 92F automatic pistol as a back-up. The team would also be equipped with a GPS system for navigation, a scrambled satellite communications unit and at least one laptop computer.

There were undoubtedly variations between individual teams, but what those differences might be is something that can only be imagined, at least by anyone not of the right security-clearance level to find out.

Though he would never say any such thing out loud, Barry was quite relieved to find Gibson and Harris waiting, in good health, at the rendezvous point. From there on, the team made good progress northwards, but were careful not to go quite as far as the route that the backpackers Gibson and Harris had been following. Instead, they turned east, towards the Vietnamese border.

Eventually, on a forested slope, Tranh held up a hand to halt them. To everyone's surprise, a road cut across the jungle ahead. It was just a scar of mud winding round the hill, but Tranh looked troubled to see it. 'What's up?' Barry asked.

Tranh made a shushing gesture, and led the team along the roadside and up a small ridge. There was plenty of activity in the clearing below. A large swathe of jungle had been bulldozed to make room for covered cutting-benches and a couple of Portakabins. The few trucks were rusting relics of the Vietnam war, but the Kalashnikovs carried by the guards all seemed to be in good condition. 'Loggers.'

'Loggers?' Barry didn't see what was wrong with that.

'Illegals,' Tranh explained. 'Khmer Rouge sympathisers, and they don't like visitors.'

Clark frowned. 'I thought this area was free from Khmer activity. There shouldn't be any north of Kratie.'

"These are simply criminals. They carry out illegal logging to raise money for the Khmer Rouge. We should go round, and try to avoid them.'

'Absolutely.' Barry hesitated. Something light green had caught his eye and he dodged instinctively. Clark's machete took the hanuman snake in mid-strike, cutting it in half. Barry winced at the sight, and kicked the business end away. 'Ah, hell. Doesn't Tsang know how much I bloody hate the jungle?'

Clark shrugged. 'Maybe she knows you're not going to be having too much fun to get on with the mission. You'll have noticed how we never get assigned to guard the wine cellars of five-star colonial hotels.'

'Life's a bitch,' Barry grumbled.

'No, life's a politician, because at least you know where you stand with a bitch.'

Barry looked at the remains of the snake, then at the logging camp. 'Do we really want to go round this place?'

Clark blinked. 'What do you mean?'

'Loggers have logging camps, right? That makes for a ready-made fire base, with shelter and room for choppers to come in. Everybody stays the hell away from logging roads, so that makes it a ready-made, built-in, psychological defence against wandering locals.'

Clark gazed at him levelly. 'And it has doors to keep the snakes out?'

'Yeah,' Barry admitted. 'I have to admit, I'm not seeing a downside on this one.'

The evening news was usually Sarah's main TV choice of the evening, but as soon as her own face flashed up on the screen, she switched it off. The trouble at Bangkok was old news to her; now that the relevant people had been arrested, she just wanted to forget all about it for a while. Coming so close to death wasn't conducive to either relaxation or to concentrating on work. She also hated being in the public eye. If she had wanted to be famous she would have become an actress, not a journalist.

Since she had efficiently transferred her clothes from luggage to wardrobe when she arrived, she didn't have much reason to hang around in her hotel room.

like most modern hotels, the Win's was almost a community unto itself.

Shops, restaurants, gyms, pools pools Large hotels are the same the world over: the only difference is the currency you tip the staff in, and even for this, the US dollar is universally accepted. 'Hotel' is now a country without statehood, simultaneously existing in many geographical locations, where you can stay inside the walls and never venture out into the foreign lands beyond. Large hotels are the same the world over: the only difference is the currency you tip the staff in, and even for this, the US dollar is universally accepted. 'Hotel' is now a country without statehood, simultaneously existing in many geographical locations, where you can stay inside the walls and never venture out into the foreign lands beyond.

You could, if you had no sense of adventure.

Sarah had never been such a person. She was curious to see what had changed in Hong Kong in recent years, and what hadn't. She'd go in search of a more adventurous dinner outside.

There is no such thing as a free lunch and even a Triad footsoldier had to work, after a fashion. You didn't make money by just sitting around, and making money was important to Yi Chung. Without money, there could be no nice apartment, nice clothes, fast cars or fast women.

Money may not buy happiness, but Yi Chung didn't mind so long as he could rent the feeling for a while.

Head buzzing with the sort of excitement that was only ever produced in backstreet labs, Yi Chung headed for the Win's Hotel. It was a mild evening, he'd have money in his pocket within moments and he would soon pick up Emily for their date. What more could he want?

He found Ah Fei already waiting for him in the mock-1930s lobby of Win's.

'Where have you been, birthday boy?' Fei demanded, not too sharply.

'Making a date. 'Yi Chung grinned.

Fei studied his expression closely. 'Not that one from the hairdresser's hairdresser's ?' ?'