Bangkok in the heat of a tropical afternoon, the polluted haze of the streets choked with vehicles and  industrial fumes, a city growing daily with an infrastructure that was twenty years behind its development and a populace with a Buddhist acceptance of their fate. Stepping from the cool of a limousine to the searing heat of the city pavement and then a short walk to the imposing steps of the Ministry Building was already enough to bring an uncomfortable sweat. On entering the air conditioned halls the perspiration quickly turned to a cold clinging; the climate was unremittingly unpleasant at this time of year.

The two men who had entered strode side by side, attracting stares from everyone in the lofty marble entrance hall. They gave a typical impression of arrogant western indifference to the sensibilities of the locals as they swaggered to the reception and walked to the head of a queue of people. Leaning on the marble counter top and thumping the brass bell, one of them called out boorishly: "Hey...can we have a bit of service here?"

A petite Thai woman delicately dressed in a silk national costume, her thick jet black hair in a tight roll looked up from the person she was attending.

With her hands joined and bowing her head in the traditional Thai welcome, she addressed them politely. "Sawasdee! How may I be of service, sir?"

The older man stepped forward and smiled. "I'm here to see the minister. Terrence Thorne. TOL  International. My card." He dipped his head slightly and surveyed her under lowered lashes with a leer. The girl blushed and seemed disconcerted. She glanced at the card and then at the appointment register.

"Yes...Mr. Thorne. You are expected....please..." She came out of the desk and called to a young man who was passing. In rapid Thai she gave him instructions and he nodded to the men to follow him. "He will escort you to the Minister..."

The younger man grinned. "Talking about escorts...you doing anything tonight, honey?"

The woman gave him a cool look, bowed and turned on her heel. The two men grinned and then set off behind the young man.

Terry Thorne entered the elevator accompanied by Nick Costello. He was dressed, like his boss, in an expensive Italian suit, both perfectly well groomed, designer shoes polished and hair gelled and sharp. They removed the shades that they were wearing, before stepping into the lift. As its door closed and it moved upwards, Costello opened his mouth to speak. Thorne raised a finger surreptitiously. It was a warning.

"Christ, mate, this place is fucking paradise. Every chick is a looker. What about that one down there? Would you stick it up her, or what?"

Terry Thorne rubbed his chin with his hand. "Some of them are good girls. Learn to tell the difference, you randy little bastard," but he laughed.

Moments later they were ushered into an opulent office with a view of the mighty Chao Prya river before them. The Minister of the Interior, Sipthorn Ranaringnama, stood up and greeted them warmly. He was an urbane man, slickly confident and oozing with self importance; his English accent showed that he had lived overseas and was no doubt the scion of a rich house. A man with a real standing in the community. A man with a lot to lose.

"Gentlemen....I welcome to you to our country. Your first visit?" Terry said no, Costello admitted that it was. "I hope you enjoy your stay. And now, in what way can I help you?"

Terry began his spiel while Costello observed him closely. Thorne was soft spoken but knowledgeable, giving an air of complete assurance and ease with the topic and his position. But then he wasn't acting a part. This was familiar territory to him. For his own part Costello felt jumpy; he preferred an enemy that he could get in his telescopic sight and blast.

"We represent various foreign companies who are uneasy at some of the recent developments here. There have been the fire bombings of several European stores, the unrest in the southern states which threatens to spill over into the tourist areas- hoteliers are anxious, and of course, there is the matter of the political violence that has led to kidnappings, assassinations and other attacks on prominent persons in public places. This is bad for the image of the country; it puts off tourists and investors. Unless you are seen to do more to protect the foreign visitors and residents then many companies will pull out and the tourists will vote with their feet. You need to act. We have some proposals."

"And what is in this for your company?" The Minister asked, his formal welcome now a cold mistrust. He did not like being told his department was failing to address the problem.

"We are contracted to these companies," Terry passed a document across, "But we are also offering your government the benefit of unbiased apolitical advice from people who are experts in this field with a proven track record. Another document was handed over. "This is a detailed account of my company and the sort of experience we have. It includes a dossier on myself and Mr. Costello. Feel free to peruse at your leisure."

A curt nod. Terry continued. "There are also some proposals that my clients would regard as the minimum assurances that they would require..." A third document was proffered and then Terry added: "One more sheet...this one is particularly important. It was a sheet of printed paper with a photograph clipped to one corner. He smiled briskly and closed up his attaché case. The Minister stopped dead and paled under his tan as he glanced at it, but did not say a word. He had been left-footed but was shrewd enough to think quickly and make no other sign of his shock.

Costello suppressed a grin and looked down, playing with his watch whilst he composed himself. Thorne stared Ranaringnama out impassively. The older man swallowed and then smiled.

"Interesting. Leave these with me and I will discuss it with my advisors. May I take this opportunity to offer you some Thai hospitality? Dinner tonight, perhaps? It would be an honour to introduce you to some of our fine cuisine..."

Costello looked up sharply, surprised. He hadn't expected this. Thorne did not react. "Most obliged, sir. We would be delighted to be your dinner guests."

"Then I shall arrange it. I shall have my secretary confirm the details later. Until then, gentlemen?"

Thus dismissed, they took their leave and made their way to the elevators, alone this time. Costello waited until the doors closed and then began: "What was that about? I thought...?" Terry shook his head, looking upwards. Costello could see nothing but he got the message. This place was bugged and probably had a camera.

"How was that girl you picked up last night? Run you ragged? You look a bit pale this morning." Terry deftly changed the subject and let Costello make up some prurient shit about what he'd got up to. He ran the details of the interview through his mind as Costello boasted away. He wanted to make sure he had missed nothing.

Out on the street, Terry took his arm and told the driver to meet them later. Across the road they entered a hotel and bought a beer at the bar carrying it over to a remote table in the lounge.

"Use your fucking head! Never in a confined space. The Ministry? Jesus!" He lit up a cigarette and drank a sip of his beer. "His office would be bugged. He knows that. Plus they do things differently here. The more courteous they are, the more you know they are either playing you or on the run. Tonight will be fun. Just listen and don't open your fucking mouth. Can you manage that?"

Costello drank his beer thoughtfully. Thorne knew his stuff. There was no doubt about it. But he kept too much to himself. What the fuck were they all here for? To stand around looking like hired muscle while he showed everyone how to do it? This was a team and they should all be involved at all levels. But he said nothing. He would keep his mouth shut alright. For now at least.

The doorbell rang. Annie groaned and jumped from the step ladder where she had been hanging some curtains. The ones in the kids' rooms had been so dull that she had bought something more jolly and bright to cheer them up. Running through the apartment she tied back her hair and straightened out her clothes. Who knew that she was there?

At the door, she hit the intercom. "Yes?"

"It's me. Mel."

"MEL!" Annie punched the security code that allowed Mel to access her floor and enter. Terry had made sure that their apartment was state of the art security with cameras, panic buttons, guards disguised as porters and commissionaires as well as personal recognition and coded entry technology. It spooked Annie and amazed her that many people lived like this all the time. She often wondered who the other residents were- you hardly ever saw a soul - and imagined that they were celebrities, the super-rich or organized crime. Who else would need all this? They couldn't all be working mothers with Captain Australia for a husband.

"I just got out of one of those ghastly prenatal appointments. I'm so sick of having my fanny looked at!" Mel exclaimed. "So what's new? How's the place suiting you?"

Mel looked around and pulled a face. "Bit bare."

"Our container hasn't arrived yet. I'm sick of the whole thing. They said it would be here by now but suddenly there are a million reasons why it isn't. So this is all there is. Apart from bedding, towels and curtains I bought. The kids' toys are the main thing. Liam is going mental in here with just what he brought on the plane. I'm damned if I am going to go and reduplicate everything just to keep him happy - but he's driving us crazy. He hates apartment life. I can't blame him - he's used to a garden and loads of mates all running about together."

"What about Zoe?"

"Well, as long as I keep supplying her with books she's fine. Actually she has been really cool about everything. Sort of looking after me. She is so sensible."

"Like her Dad, hey? Any news?"

"Not much. He has to be careful. No calls from landlines and only scrambled phones. I wait on him mostly and have a Batphone all of my own. Which I invariably bugger up and cut us off or something. He then gets annoyed and starts drilling me again... Take no notice of me. He's okay, I think. Early days, you know? Distracted. No time for small talk."

Mel nodded. "They're best left alone at that stage. Not much help to you though, I know. Come on...get changed and let's do lunch. My treat. I'm starving. I want to eat Italian. Loads of pasta. Rich desserts. Flirt with waiters."

Annie jumped up. "I'm not pregnant - do not tempt me! But lunch is fine. I'd love it. Wait...I'll just throw something on..."

An hour later they were seated at La Busola, an intimate bistro on the same block as her apartment, tucking into a heap of pasta (Mel) and a salad (Annie). They continued their catching up. "How're the kids?"

Annie pulled a face. "Not very happy, I'm afraid. They don't like their school. They don't like America. They don't like Terry being away. Zoe is pretty easy about things - she just tends to knuckle down and get on with it but Liam isn't fond of school at the best of times. He hates it here. Just moans and groans all the time."

"Does Terry know?"

"Well, he started on  him on the phone one night and got short shrift. His Dad just told him to put a sock in it. 'How you're going to join the army if you start crying every time you go someplace new and have no friends?' Like you'll get sympathy from a bloke? A bloke like Terry?"

The two women laughed. "I can just hear Dino. What are you - a big girl? So they don't like you? So punch their lights out. At least they'll keep outta your way then..."

"Yeah...great advice. Thanks Dad," Annie giggled. "It's good to talk to you, Mel. I'm a bit like the kids, you know? No friends. Feeling it a bit..."

Mel covered her hand with her own. "I'm here and at a loose end. I finish work in a week, then I'll be even more round your heels. I don't know any housewives but you. We can start a new club...how you coping? Bet you miss him?"

Annie nodded but didn't say anything. Mel could see the tears rising in her friend's eyes and the choked-off sob she was holding back. "Lonely at nights?"

She took a sip of wine and dabbed at her face. "Yes. God, the nights are terrible. Once the kids go to bed, I just sit there in that empty apartment and my mind wanders. I get angry and bitter. We lost so much time. Why do we have to sacrifice more? It doesn't seem fair..."

"It isn't meant to be fair. It isn't about fairness. You scared he'll go with someone else?" Mel asked.

Annie looked up at her. "Who? Terry? No...I mean....I don't care...what the fuck does that have to do with us?"

Mel shrugged. "You haven't always been so tolerant."

"You have no idea what I have always been. Unlike you, I don't feel the need to brag about every private detail of my life..."

"Don't start that with me, Annie. When have I talked to you about Dino? When?"

Annie held up her hands. "Fair enough. I'm sorry, Mel. But frankly I don't give a shit if he does the dirty with some girl over there. He'll be careful. He has a right to some comfort. What do you think Dino does?"

Mel whistled under her breath. "Well, he doesn't share that with me, that's for sure. What about you? You think that applies to you as well?"

Annie shot her a look. "Of course I don't!"

"Good. Make sure it stays like that," was Mel's sharp response. For the first time that day the edge came back into their conversation and they carried on eating in silence. After a while, they returned to chatting but the gulf was there and the conversation from then on was mostly about places to eat or good shopping areas, trivial things. As soon as she could, Annie made her excuses and called for the bill.

"My treat," said Mel.

"I'd rather we shared it," Annie retorted, her prickly side to the fore. Mel shrugged and threw her share on the plate.

As they left the restaurant, a young man passing by said hello and stopped to talk.

"Hi, Amri! How you doing? Meet my friend, Mel!" Annie introduced the good- looking dark haired man. A few pleasantries were exchanged and then he went on his way.

"Who's he?" Mel followed him with her eyes. "Bloody gorgeous! How do you know him?"

Annie grinned and shook her head. "Does it never occur to you that I might be able to pick up a bloke without having to settle for your cast offs?"

Mel sniggered. "Well...."

"He lives in our apartment block. I see him at the gym. He's very nice."

"I'll say. Where's he from?" She asked.

"Dunno. Never asked. I thought he might be an American from his accent..."

"Naw...he's got a touch of something else there. Too correct, you know? Fabulous eyes. Might be Italian or something...eye candy anyway..."

"Go and lie down. Your blood pressure does not need raising! I'd better run and get finished before I have to pick up the kids from school..."

"Look, Annie....I'm sorry about before...I'll see when Dino's free. You must bring the kids over for dinner. He's dying to have a chat with Liam..."

"You come to us. I don't think your furniture would stand the onslaught. Soon. Give me a call when you're free...Bye, sweetie, take care!" They kissed and Annie dashed across the road leaving Mel to hail a cab.

At the other side, Annie strolled off in the direction of her own home, pulling her winter coat closer against the wind.

 "Annie...Annie..." It was Amri. "You going home? I'll walk you back..."

Mel screwed up her eyes and watched the young man fall in next to her friend. Had he been hanging round waiting for her? She got a momentary sense of unease as if something was pricking at her mind that she couldn't quite figure out. A taxi stopped, she got in and the incident slipped from her mind.

The dinner was in an up market Thai restaurant Baan Siam on a side street off Rumrhudee Road. It was in the style of an old Thai house, tastefully decorated with antiques, and luxuriously appointed. Most of the other diners were expatriates or rich Thai businessmen; this was a high end joint. Terry and Nick were led through the garden terrace to a private room with wooden slatted doors opened onto the garden. The air conditioner was powerful and they asked for the doors to be left open to allow the warmth of the tropical night to seep in and to admire the view of the water garden and the plants.

Their host had yet to arrive; timekeeping was a flexible commodity in Asia, something they had to get used to. To be late implied you were important and if the Minister got his kicks in that way, then it was no skin off their noses. They ordered Scotch on ice and sat there sipping and smoking quietly, talking about the place and Nick's impressions of Bangkok, nothing controversial.

Both had dressed casually tonight, short-sleeved shirts and khakis; people generally did not overdress here unless the event was formal. It was too hot for that - and Costello had plans for afterwards. He saw no reason why he shouldn't sample the wilder side of the city tonight. "Fancy a trip to Nana later?" he mentioned casually.

"You're settling in well. Didn't take you long to orientate yourself. Maybe. We'll see how this goes," Terry replied dismissively and then inclined his head to indicate something was happening. The Minister breezed in on a wave of staff and discreet bodyguards who took their positions around the garden at a distance.

Formalities and pleasantries exchanged, the men sat down. So did three beautiful Thai women who took up their places next to the men. Nick grinned and turned to speak to his; Terry frowned.

"Send them away. Now!"

Nick frowned. The Minister raised his eyebrows. Terry set his face.

"If you insist. It is our custom. We like to offer the flowers of our land to welcome visitors..."

"Yeah...entrapment. You like that as well," he muttered with a smile that did not reach his eyes. 

With a nod the girls were dismissed. "Better. This place secure?"

Ranaringnama nodded. "Of course. But first food."

They dined well. Fragrant salads laced with fiery dressings of chili, lime and lemongrass, bubbling Tom Yam Kung  with giant Tiger  prawns, fish steamed in ginger and nam pla, fragrant red and green curries, vegetables stir fried in delicate sauces. A fine Chablis was served to accompany it all. There was no doubt that the food was excellent and they all enjoyed it. But business was business.

"So...my proposal. I hope you realize that I have more of the same? A digital movie as well as it happens. These new cameras...they miss nothing, you know?"

"What do you want from me?" hissed Ranaringnama.

Terry smiled coldly. "Nothing too hard to give up. You've a taste for white women. Not all Russian whores are Russian whores, Minister. The lady in the photograph is CIA. See? I'm doing you a favour. Now, a little favour of my own..."

He outlined what he wanted. Names, safe houses and contacts for suspect Muslim extremist groups in the country. Especially those with Malaysian or Indonesian connections. If necessary an introduction. Ranaringnama was lucratively playing the game both ends. How fortunate he had a taste for white flesh. A useful weakness.

"And if I refuse to respond to your blackmail, Mr. Thorne?"

"...I won't be very pleased. And these will be on every newspaper desk in the region not to mention every government department the next day. Oh yes, and the special ones I'm having done for your wife and parents. The bondage sequence should go down a treat..."

"You....! I could pay someone to take you out with the small change in my pocket. You'll never get out of here alive...!" The man changed from his obsequious formality to hissing rage.

"Not a good idea, sir. We're just the messengers. There are others holding the material. Waiting for us to get home, safe and sound. If not - you're fucked anyway. The documents will be dispatched. Think carefully. I'm not asking for anything you can't give. No one will know where I got this information from..."

"Why? Why does a man like you want this information?" Ranaringnama asked curiously; it was clear he was no longer falling for the K and R story.

Costello spoke for the first time. "None of your fucking business, mate. Let's just say we are representing more than one interest group. You've got twenty four hours. Make sure you get that little brown envelope to us, hey?"

Terry stood up. The meeting was at an end. "One other point, the tape won't work. We're wearing scramblers. They interfere with the machinery. Sorry about that, mate. Looking forward to hearing from you. Great meal. Krap khoon kap, Mr. Ranaringnama." He bowed his head Thai-style and forced a similar response from his mark. The minister sank back into his seat and ordered a bottle of Scotch.

The two men walked briskly out of the restaurant onto the quiet side street. A valet called them a cab; Terry said "Nana." Moments later they were turning out of the narrow soi into the congested lanes of the central thoroughfare. Exiting on the limits of the district, they chose to stroll along the sidewalk to the main area along pavements crowded with vendors selling fake goods, tourist souvenirs, Buddhist statues and motifs. It was the busiest place in the city and the one safest for their conversation.

"We could have pushed him too hard. Say he folds? Might top himself," Costello observed.

Terry shook his head. "He's harder than that. What's it to him? He has that information and should be acting on it - that's his fucking job. Someone's paying him to keep his mouth shut. So he double crosses them? Who'd finger him for it? There are thousands of weak links in that chain."

"He suspects we're not K and R..."

"We are K and R. We just showed him we were working both sides, too. Either we're doing a number for the CIA or we're doing one for ourselves. He'll reckon the latter. Gun running. Bomb parts. Nastier the better. That means he won't dare cross us."

Costello lit up a cigarette and eyed up a girl loitering outside a bar. "You sound pretty sure of yourself..."

Terry stared straight ahead. "That's because I actually know what I'm doing."

"You trying to say I didn't deliver?" Costello snapped back, eyeing him up.

Terry gave him a look. "Let's say I have yet to see much evidence of your contribution. Apart from stuffing your face and perving women. Now...you could get a medal for that..."

Costello threw the butt end into a stagnant and noxious open drain. "Yeah right, mate, like you give me a chance? What the fuck do I know? I know shit about any of it - like was that hooker really CIA? Because you tell us shit. How'm I supposed to work it out? E S fucking P?"

They carried on walking side-by-side, the stances of both men rigid and hostile. Terry thought about his words. Costello had a point. He had not briefed him well enough, concerned that Costello would be too eager if he had the whole story and might jump in where he shouldn't. But he couldn't expect him to do the job in the dark. He himself would never stand for being out on a limb like that.

"The girl's a Russian whore. One of my local contacts has been following Rama for weeks and he just selected a suitable night of the week for Hewitt to set up and do the dirty."

"So that bit about the CIA?"

"You think the CIA would give that one up? If they had an agent at that level?" He sneered. "Use your fucking head. It's called lying. But he can't be sure. Does it matter anyway? He's fucked if his friends and family see the film - or if it gets into the newspapers. That DVD would be on sale at one of these stalls within one day. He'd be a laughing stock...but the CIA fear will prey on his mind. Let's see how hard his dick is next time he wants to play hide the sausage with Miss Olga from Vladivostok, hey?"

At that they turned into the gaudy neon-lit 'Soho on acid' that was Nana central, they both surveyed the scene. It was crowded with tourists thronging round to stare at or partake in the open sexual-fest on display. It is an interesting concept for any visitor. The ground floor is a vast expanse of open air bars in a courtyard open to the stars. Hordes of young hostesses dressed scantily tottering on impossibly stacked shoes pounced on any man that passed, trying to entice him to drink at their establishment. Throughout the time, they would hang about their 'guest' stroking, fondling, talking in their babyish sing-song broken English. Their job was to sell drinks; the by- product could be more if a suitable price was set on the table for the girl's release from her job for the night. All open and uncomplicated. No one was shocked or tried to pretend this was anything but what it was.

Little boys and girls with arms full of wrapped single roses wandered about accosting the men and trying to offload the flowers, "For your pretty girlfriend, mister?" Many men bought to shut the kids up. Terry watched one little boy, not much older than Liam with a thick thatch of unruly black hair, dump his flowers on the pavement and suddenly start to play. He mimicked the fast and furious Muay Thai boxers, in a world of his own, just like any little kid, just like his own son. It brought a lump in his throat to think that this kid was out alone on dangerous streets late at night in the heart of the sex industry trying to make a living. That made him think of Liam. The familiar ache gripped its tentacles round his heart. His face stiffened in response to the emotion plaguing him.

"What's upstairs?" Costello asked as they drank a beer and unwrapped themselves from the arms of the hostesses.

"More. Second floor- bit harder. Lap dancing. Pole dancing. Stripping. Third floor the real stuff. Live sex shows. Anything you want. Girls. Boys. Ladyboys. Prices rise as you climb the stairs, Nicky boy." Terry chewed his lip and grinned at the younger man. "Fancy a whirl?"

They joined the incongruous crowd climbing the wide wooden staircases to the galleries above. There were the usual old and creepy looking men, pot- bellied and sweating mixed in with the tourists who came to stare and giggle - respectable middle aged couples, young backpackers and their girlfriends, even families with teenagers. It was strange how people discard the conventions that apply back home once they are in a country far away.

On level two, they wandered about, moving aside the curtained entrances to view the goods on offer.

"Hey, mister...got pretty girls. All clean. Want to be friends?"

"You don't want girls? You want boys? Got pretty boys. You like them..."

Selecting one small bar with its poles dominating the space, seating along the narrow walls in almost pew-like stalls, Terry and Nick sat down and ordered whisky ice. Disco music pounding, the girls gyrated on the poles above, almost too coy to be sex workers with their delicate Asian movements. No lurid simulated sex on a stick here. These beautiful girls, doll-like in their perfection, totally naked apart from strings and tiny squares covering their genitals, moved sensuously, their faces impassive and their eyes doe-like. Every time a record changed, the girl at the extreme end would step down, another would take her place at the other side, and they all moved down. The girl who was now free, would select her victim and sit down on his knee.

The place was full of mature men fully dressed with these semi-naked women fondling and grinding on their laps whilst making trite almost innocent conversation belied by the overt sexual behaviour.

"You like Thailand?

"You want to be my friend?"

"You like my nails? My friend did."

"You want to be my friend all night?

The girl slipped on to his lap, straddled his legs and put her arms on his shoulders. She smiled shyly but rubbed her groin against his. Terry's hands automatically stroked down the slender back and cupped her tiny buttocks. Her slight body felt familiar in his grasp. She grinned and bent down over him; he could smell a cheap and flowery perfume, jasmine he thought. Her lips brushed his ear.

"Am I pretty?" She asked girlishly "You like black hair girls?

With a sickening thud he recalled why he recognized the feeling. This girl-woman was about the size of his daughter, a child who was not yet eight. But Zoe was tall and, although slender for a European, she was not much lighter than this tiny Thai woman. Revulsion swept over him.

"Am I pretty, Daddy?"

"You're gorgeous, princess."

"I wish I had blonde hair. Can I dye it when I'm older?"

The tiny buttocks in his hands were like her little naked body. Even the woman's breasts were little more than buds. Sweat broke out on his forehead despite the air conditioning. He looked around at the other men and saw their behaviour and the passive acceptance of these young women to be mauled like pieces of meat. It make him nauseous - but what worried him most of all was himself. He had felt himself hardening at her touch. To be reminded of his daughter in that moment was disturbing.

"I've had enough. You staying?" Terry stood up and placed the girl gently on her feet, tucking a note into her hand.

"Krap Khoon Kap... you want to go somewhere?' She asked with no embarrassment, making the formal bow, her hands joined in deference.

He shook his head. "No...But thank you for your company..." He walked out into the night and stood at the balcony overlooking the courtyard below taking gulps of air. How many times had he been to places like this before in the past? Done a deal, picked up a girl and taken her back to his hotel. Then got her a tut-tut home and returned to whatever negotiation he was involved in, sitting naked at the desk, bone-less and the tension relieved for a while. How many women who looked like little girls lying next to a man like him had he bedded, never asking whether they were of age or not? Just taking what he could afford because he was too jaded to make a relationship or commitment to a woman. And because he could afford them. 'As much clit as he wanted' as Dino used to say. Perks of the trade. Jesus Christ - he thought he was a better man than that - when in fact he was just the same as all of them.

"What's up?" Costello joined him.

"Nothing."

"You all right?"

"Yeah...I'm shooting through..."

"What about upstairs...don't you fancy...?"

"You can climb stairs on your own, can't you? You want me to hold your hand while you fuck your whore tonight?"

Nick held up his hands and stepped back. "What's your fucking problem? Can't get it up no more? Christ..." he stormed off and ran up the stairs to the third storey. Terry slipped down the stairs and back onto the street to take a taxi back to his hotel.

It was night and Annie was sprawled out on the deep cushions of the sofa in her apartment  pretending to read. The children were in their rooms playing. It was almost bedtime and she knew she ought to be marshalling them but she just felt lethargic, far away. A song was playing softly in the background; it was a favourite of theirs. 'Late night screwing music' as Terry called it.

You think I'd leave your side, baby?
You know me better than that.
You think I'd leave you down when you're down on your knees?
I wouldn't do that.

He was alone and she was not by his side. Only in her head. As she did a million times a day, she wondered what he was doing now, right at that moment. She looked at her watch and realized it was early morning there already. Another day. Was he dragging himself out of bed in some hotel room, staggering for the shower to wake himself up? Knowing him, he was already up and dressed - when he was working he was relentless on himself, not the lazy slugabed that he would be at home. She imagined him sitting in his suite eating breakfast and reading the morning newspaper, already shaved, dapper ready for the day. Did he stop sometimes and think of her?

When you're on the outside, baby, and you can't get in
I will show you, you're so much better than you know
When you're lost, when you're alone and you can't get back again
I will find you, darling, and I'll bring you home

If you want to cry
I am here to dry your eyes
and in no time, you'll be fine

If only you could see into me

Oh, when you're cold
I'll be there 
To hold you tight, to me
Oh, when you're low
I'll be there by your side, baby

If only you could see into me. What she would give for a moment with him by her side!

"Mum?" Liam snuck up and climbed all over her to snuggle in next to her, wriggling against her warm body. Maybe he was right by her side, in a sense.

"What is it, sweetie?" He seemed unusually quiet today and had been in his room a long time.

"Mum...would you be really mad if I told you I was in trouble at school?" He asked. Annie laughed to herself. Think you just have, mate!

"Are you in trouble?"

"Sort of..."

"What sort of?"

Liam sniffed and ran his hand through his hair; she could tell he was nervous but that he was also upset. "I don't like this school." It was a very fine school, one that was extremely difficult to get into. Without Dino having pulled some strings it would have been impossible at such late notice.

"What's wrong with it? Come on, Liam, spit it out. I won't be angry with you..."

"They don't like me, Mum. They laugh at me. They call me Steve-O and make fun of how I talk. I don't have any mates..." He was filling up with tears and she cuddled him close. Poor kid. This had impinged on everyone's life.

"Liam...what did you do?"

"I had a fight. This boy...I hate him, Mum. He's like the leader. His name's Bradley. I just couldn't stand it, so I jumped him. But the teacher just went mental and blamed me. She called me a horrible rough little boy. I've got to see the head tomorrow and I'm scared..."

Annie smiled and brushed back his hair. "What are you scared of, baby?"

He sniffed again. "They might throw me out."

"Well, you don't like them. So, who cares? Liam, if they sack you then we find another school. But you've got to learn a lesson. They were nasty but you have to keep your temper at school. The teachers won't allow fighting."

"But, Dad says that I should just show 'em whose boss..."

"You don't have to hit them to do that, Liam! That's not what he means..." she replied, although she thought it was probably exactly what he had meant. "You know at your school back home? Remember how you had loads of friends and everyone followed you about? Did any new kids ever come into your class? What did you do to make them feel happy?"

Liam thought about that. "Nothing much..."

"Do you see what I mean? You expected those new kids to simply get on with it and I'll bet some of you made fun of them at first, too. Kids do stuff like that. You're the new kid now and you have to make the effort even though it's hard. But I'll tell you this, mate. In time, if you stick it out, they will accept you. But if you simply throw a temper and annoy them then you are never gonna show them what you really are. And if you want to impress them, then do it on the sports' field. I'll bet you're one of the fastest runners..."

"They play stupid games...."

"Then learn them - you might find you get to like them. Beat them at their own game, hey...?"

Liam smiled. "Ya reckon?"

"I reckon. Now let's get you bathed and to bed. I'll go and have a word with the Principal tomorrow morning and we'll sort this out. I promise. But no more fighting? Or I will be angry with you... What did you do to Bradley anyway?"

"Made his nose bleed and cut his lip. He was crying like a baby..." Liam grinned. Annie rolled her eyes. Try telling a Thorne man not to solve his problems with his fists? Some hopes.

A week later the four men were gathered round a table poolside in a luxury hotel in an island off the west coast of Malaysia. Ostensibly this was R and R for a few tired K and R men but in reality it was time to regroup and share their findings. While Thorne and Costello had been in Bangkok, Hewitt and Anders had been down in the south of the country moving amongst the disaffected poorer Muslim Thais, keeping their ears open, meeting with a few contacts Terry had given them and taking some photographs of people who may or may not be Al-Qaeda linked. But the most important thing they had been doing was putting themselves about, asking questions and making sure that they were seen. Two white men who were hinting that they had some business ideas to offer would be immediately of interest; and if that business just happened to be connected to weapons then they knew they would be sought out soon enough

And they had been. The people who dealt with were small fry but they were small links in a very big chain. Word would soon be out that an offer was on the table. They were just giving these groups time to check them out.

It was a fantastic setting, overlooking the Andaman Sea, white palm-fringed beach flanking the mangrove jungle. Hornbills swooped above them, so tame that they nestled in the towering hardwood trees that the pool had been built around. This was virgin jungle cleared and spruced as a six star resort. The ultimate in luxury amidst the breathtaking majesty of nature.

Papers were spread out before them on the wooden table, laptops were charged up and they were deep in conference. Terry Thorne knew from this point on there had to be no secrets, no information held back; he was just a cog in this wheel and could not run it all from the top. If anything happened to him, then he had to ensure that the others could either carry on or get out safely. Either way, keeping them in the dark about certain factors would not do anyone any good.

"So...where to now?" Anders asked as they digested each other's reports.

"K.L. They'll be ready to start biting. I also want to keep it all above board. Meet a few expat CEOs, pump a bit of flesh, hob nob with the sultans, meet and greet the embassies. We have to look whiter than white. The more convincing we are, the more the bad boys will think we are their meal ticket..."

"Can I get you any drinks?" A waiter in white sharply pressed shorts and shirt stood by; the four men immediately fell silent. 

"Jug of beer," Terry muttered and the man withdrew. They had chosen this place because it was impossible to imagine that they could be overheard - but you never know.

The drinks arrived and while the waiter poured them out, Terry gathered up the papers and shut off his laptop. "Let's take a break. We're all rooted. Couple of hours in the sun and then meet in my room after dinner. We'll take it from there..."

He moved away and pulled off his T- shirt to dive into the pool and swim the length underwater. The cool clear water cleared his head and the silence of the deeper water of the pool relaxed him. He idly watched the shadows of people swimming above where the bright light of the sun still dappled. He passed a group of young women, their impossibly tiny thongs leaving little to the imagination. One kicked and stroked out, her legs spread wide as she swam breaststroke. The sight of her sex, covered in the flimsy suit sent a sudden rush of heat to his groin. He knew he shouldn't be looking like a dirty old man but he still followed her and risked a tent in his shorts.

Surfacing he reached the opposite side and stood up, running his hands down his face and rubbing his eyes. Then he leant back against the marble tiles and surveyed the scene. The group of young women was looking his way; he nodded in their direction and smiled.

"Hi! We wondered when you lot would stop working and have some fun. Fancy coming here to a place like this and bringing the office with you!" She was English, a blonde with her hair in minute plaits -were they what Annie called extensions?- bronzed and stacked, her tiny bikini top hardly masking her charms. "Tory Heslop. Victoria..." She grinned at him.

"Terry," he replied.

"Meet my girlfriends. This place is gorgeous but there's not much action, do ya know what I mean? It's mostly families and retired couples. I think we should have gone to the Caribbean again...Sandals, you know?"

"Yeah," Terry replied, thinking how much Annie hated those kinds of resorts. Sun, sand and shag, she called them - as if she was above all that. So typical of Annie.

Her two friends swam over. "Shauna and Natalie. This is Terry. He doesn't say much," Tory giggled. Terry grinned.

"Give me a chance, love. You haven't shut up yet. Pleased to meet you, girls. Poms, I see?"

They giggled. "Well, it didn't take long to work out where you four were from."

Terry frowned unsure what she meant. "The shorts he's wearing! And that cap!" Terry looked where she was pointing and saw what she meant. Hewitt had a pair of swim shorts in the Australian flag and Costello had a Wallabies cap on. "That obvious, huh? Well, that's one thing you can cross off your list. We aren't spies" He gave a smug smile.

"What do you do? Why the top secret conference?" Natalie asked him. She was Afro-Caribbean mixed and bloody gorgeous, her tight curls like cork screws around her pretty face and the tawny skin.

He shrugged. "We're taking a break from the office to have a think- tank session. You'd be surprised what ideas we come up with..." he raised his eyebrows saucily and they smirked.

"Where are you based?"

"Singapore," he replied.

"How long you here for?"

"Till tomorrow."

"Haven't got much time then, have we?" The third woman spoke. She was tall and willowy with short wavy hair cut in a messy style. Her eyes were a startling blue and she was direct in her appraisal of him, her eyes wandering down his chest slowly, biting on her lip. "Maybe we can all join up for a drink, later?"

Terry considered it for a moment, perhaps a moment longer than he should have, before replying. "No, sorry, girls. I'm the boss and I'm a slave driver. Pity though. Would have been fun..."

Shauna tossed back her hair and smoothed her hands down her body. "Too married, eh?" She indicated that she had seen his ring.

"Too busy. Have fun, girls..." he dived back into the pool and swam easily away. It was tempting. Working girls on their annual holiday in the sun. He knew how it went. Different bloke every night. That was what they came for. Never see them again. Perfect deal. What was holding him back?

At the other side, he pulled himself smoothly out of the pool and sat down on the edge. They were still watching him.

"Very tasty, boss. But don't you think you're a bit old for 3 on 1?" Costello muttered.

Terry gave him a look. "Day I'm too old they'll be nailing down the lid, mate."

The other men laughed. "They interested?"

"Oh yeah...well, in me anyway." Terry grinned. "Pity we're working tonight, hey, lads? Excuse me...my drink is getting warm..."

They were almost wrapped up when the knock sounded at the door of his room. Terry grimaced and indicated to the other three. "You rang for anything?"

They shook their heads. 

Flicking open his attaché case, Terry eased out his hand gun and slipped it into the waistband of his pants. Costello and Hewitt swung back on their chairs, looking easy but ready to go to ground if there was trouble; Anders took up a position out of the line of vision of the person outside the door but near enough to step up if Terry needed back up.

The knocking sounded again. Terry walked purposefully over to the door and then opened it quickly, standing slightly to the side, letting the door cover most of his body. The men inside froze. They knew it was a false alarm when Thorne leaned over on the door frame and smiled lazily. "Well, ladies, to what do we owe this timely interruption?"

"Can we come in?" Shauna was the spokeswoman and she waved two bottles in his face - Scotch and Champagne. The other girls had wine. "You can't work all night. You know what they say....all work and no play makes Terry a very dull boy..."

He stepped back and held his hand out for them to enter with a nod and a wink to the other men. Surreptitiously he slipped the gun back into its cradle and closed the case while the girls introduced themselves and settled down on the lounge suite, each one selecting a victim and moving in close. Three girls. Four men. 'Guess who's the odd man out?' he thought to himself.

The girls were out to play, that was pretty obvious. Bottles were opened and glasses found, drinks were poured and an easy chatter followed. Terry stood by the window smoking, looking out onto the moonlit night. He wished Annie was with him. Long ago they had stayed at a place like this on another island in this part of the world and they had conceived Zoe after a week of almost nonstop sex. She would love the resort. He imagined them taking a walk in the moonlight along that deserted beach, lying down in the white sand and reaching for each other under the stars. Jesus, was he getting romantic in his old age?

A smell made him turn his head. Tory was lighting a joint and then passing it round. "Christ - where the fuck did you get that from?" Terry exclaimed crossing the room.

"This? Brought some with us. Come on...it's only marijuana..."

"...the possession of which carries a mandatory death sentence in this country... Jesus Christ!" Terry groaned.

"Really? Even tourists?" Natalie asked.

"Yes...even tourists," he answered.

"Then we better smoke it all up now so there's no evidence, hey?" Shauna laughed. "Here, big guy....want a drag? Might loosen you up a bit!"

Shaking his head ruefully, he took it from her and inhaled deeply. It was a long time since he had smoked the stuff. Annie thought it should never be in the house now although there had been a time when she had loved to get high; she had reckoned sex was even better after a good old smoke. The sweet fragrance swirled around his nostrils as he felt the buzz hit his brain. He filled up his glass of Scotch and took a seat on a chair, now joining the group.

The mood was changing from the teasing flirtation and a little bit of feeling up that had been going on before to a more heated atmosphere. Hewitt was slumped on the floor, propped up against the couch with Natalie lying across him; they were necking quite blatantly and his hand had hitched up her short skirt - her tiny white panties were on display as was the fact that he had his hand stuck down them. Her hand had disappeared into the fly of his jeans.

Anders was sitting on the couch above with Tory straddling him; she had unfastened his shirt and he was nuzzling at her breasts. Terry watched them and then turned his head away, realizing he had been staring. On his right Shauna and Costello were getting close; she was sitting on his knee facing forwards as he opened her dress and fondled her naked breasts. She caught his eye. "Want to join us?" she offered  Nick grinned and gave him the eye.

His cock heard her; it jumped to attention. Pulling on the joint some more, he closed his eyes. When he opened then again the scene had changed. The two couples across the room had somehow got involved with each other; both men lying on the floor with the two women on top, naked now. Tory was sitting on Anders face; Natalie was attending to Hewitt's cock. The two girls were also fondling each other. He felt sweat break out on his forehead. "You prefer to watch?"

Shauna's voice again. This time she was on her knees in front of him stroking his groin through his jeans. "More fun if you get involved, Terry..." He covered her hand to move it away but then stopped. The sight of the foursome now deep into their own pleasure was working on him; the room smelt of sex and pot and rang with heavy breathing, suppressed groans, muttered profanities and crude encouragements. He felt her unzip him and slip her hand in.

"God, you are a big boy!" She murmured as she lowered her head and pulled him out; Costello sank to his knees with a grin and parted her legs to reach her pussy. Terry dropped his head on the back of the chair and let it happen, gave in to the warm wet sensation as she licked and swirled, teasing out his sensitivity, rubbing his balls gently and then sucking down, faster and faster as she grew nearer to her own coming. As he grew nearer to his.

Costello had moved from fingering her to kneeling up and entering her. His hands were resting on her hips, pulling her forcefully back onto him; she was now sucking Terry in rhythm with his thrusting. Terry gritted his teeth and felt the moment as it began to take him over. He swore crudely and pushed himself deeper into her throat no longer able to think let alone stop.

The phone in his pocket buzzed. He jumped and her teeth grazed him. Wincing, he pulled away and took out the cell, pushing his aching cock back into his pants and standing up, turned his back and zipped up. The digital display confirmed his suspicions. Annie.

Lurching for the bathroom, leaving the scene of group sex behind, he slammed the door and answered. His face in the brightly lit mirror looked haggard. "Thorne," he snapped out even though he knew it was her.

"You took your time. Did I wake you?"

"No." His monosyllabic grunt brought a frown from Annie. She wondered what the matter was.

"Is it a bad time? I thought you would be settling down for the night..."

"I was in the bathroom. Sorry. Things on my mind..."

"Tired?"

"Yeah."

"Everything alright, Terry? You sound...I don't know, you sound odd."

"Fuck, Annie...I just want some peace and quiet. Do I have to be happy, happy, happy every time you get it in your head to call me?"

He heard her sharp intake of breath. There was no reason for him to talk to her like that. He swore under his breath at his own insensitivity. "I'll get off then. Call me when you feel better. I just thought you might want some company..."

"Sorry...I'm just...Look, can I ring you in the morning? I'm just not in the mood tonight..." She said goodnight and hung up. He switched off the phone and put his head in his hands, leaning on the granite surface of the sink unit. Sinking down to his knees, he dropped back against the door and closed his eyes. He hadn't even asked her how she was, inquired about the kids, told her he loved her. His head was swimming with the abrupt interruption to his imminent orgasm, his balls were sore and his dick throbbed, he felt dirty and sordid. He suddenly couldn't walk out and face the scene on the other side of the door.

Standing up and stripping, he flipped on the shower and turned it to cold. Then he changed his mind and eased the dial back up to warm. Stepping inside, he let the water course over him and watched as his right hand grasped his cock; it was still semi-hard and it didn't take much to work it up again. With his other hand resting on the tiles, he jerked himself off with the memory of the woman's mouth still fresh in his mind. He knew he couldn't stand much more of this.

Annie put down the phone and rested her head in her hands. Something was not right. He could be grouchy when he was tired and under pressure but he was never reluctant even to talk. Usually that's what he wanted late at night, just to hear her voice and let the day slip from him. Then it occurred to her like a bolt. That wasn't Terry in a bad mood. It was Terry guilty. She had disturbed him in bed with someone.

At first she shook the notion from her head, but the more she ran the conversation through her mind, the more the idea made sense. Imagine what he had felt like! No matter what she had said, he would hate himself for giving in to temptation and even more at the thought that she might realize what he had been involved in. Her heart gave out to him until another emotion gripped her. A dart of jealousy. Who was she? Where had he met her? Was she younger? Was she better at it? It doesn't matter how rational she thought her head was. The idea of him touching another woman made the bile rise to her throat. She found herself running for the bathroom to throw up.