Colin Cotterill - Grandad, Thereэ's head on the beach

Actually, Arny was every bit as scared of the water as me. We'd both had life-threatening experiences in water that I won't go into now. But Arny had an image to project here, and if it involved wrestling sharks, I felt there was no turning back for him.

"Now, who do we know with a boat?" said Mair.

Actually, we lived in a fishing village. Everyone we knew owned or had access to a boat. What she was really asking was who would be dumb enough to lend us one so we could go and get it riddled with machine-gun bullets.

"Ed," said Arny.

"No," said I.

"Why not?" asked Grandad. "He's got a fine new boat. Just finished it a week ago."

"Look, just not Ed, all right?" I said. "Then give us an alternative," said Grandad. The effects of the antidepressant had abated some. I still felt a tickle when I thought of the male musculature, but I was no longer in heat. I was left with only the shame of the erotic thoughts that had forced me onto our grass cutter. I understood all those addicts who woke up in the bodies of complete strangers and lived those strangers' lives badly. If we didn't all die at the hands of slavers or government agents, I vowed I would volunteer at the local drug clinic. I acknowledged my addiction. I am Jimm and I'm a recovering sex addict.

Mair was talking on Amy's cell phone. When she finished, I asked, "Who was that?"

"Ed," she said.

"Mair, we're a team," I said. "Teams consult. Teams don't ignore the opinion of their daughters. What did he say?"

"He's on his way."

"Chom, thanks for this afternoon. Can you speak?"

"Do you mean, have I learned the fundamentals, or am I in a position to discuss the illiterate ape I share my office with?"

"OK. Question answered. Where are you?"

"I'm sitting in a children's playground with a cigarette."

"You don't smoke."

"I didn't say I was smoking it. I'm just holding it near my lips so that from the police station opposite it looks like I'm smoking, and therefore I have an excuse to be out of my office."

"You're hiding."

"I've reached my limit. I'm imagining all the things I'd do to him if I were four times the man I am."

"You want revenge?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. You remember his address?"

"I've driven past it several times and thrown imaginary Molotov cocktails."

"Do you feel like going inside?"

"That would be what we policemen refer to as breaking and entering?"

"That's the one. I bet you're good at it."

"And what, apart from the stimulating rush of adrenaline, would be my motivation?"

"We're going after the slavers. Even if we get them, we still wouldn't have any evidence that Egg was involved. There's nothing incriminating in his files. We need something that ties him to this whole slavery thing. And we need to know what other police are involved."

"Other police?"

"The Burmese they've taken today were picked up by uniformed police."

"Do you have an actual witness this time?"

"We have seventeen of them. But they're on their way to the deep ocean. We're going to bring them back."

"Do you have a plan?"

"It's complicated."

"You don't have a plan."

"I do. It's coming. And your breaking and entering is a part of that plan."

He was quiet.

"Are you thinking?" I asked.

"I'm posing elegantly with my cigarette between two fingers as I consider the humiliation of being discharged from the police force."

"It can't be any worse than the humiliation you've suffered by being in it."

Another silence.

"You're right."

"So, you'll do it?"

"Nobody bullies big Chom and gets away with it."

The small vessels generally set out for sea from Jamook Prong harbor, but this day Ed's new seven-meter squid boat was parked directly beside the Honda. The tide was full and the sea was once again nudging the cabins. I'd avoided eye contact with Ed, even while briefing him on piracy matters. I was impressed at how readily he'd volunteered himself and his boat. He'd brought along a friend, plastic awnings salesman and part-time private investigator Meng, to act as crew. I knew that with every new recruit there was one added chance of a double agent sneaking in. There was a lot of piracy bribe money going around. But I'd had dealings with Meng, and he appeared to be the type who found it hard to tell a lie. At 150 centimeters and 40 kilos, however, I didn't see him wrestling many armed guards to the ground.

"So, exactly what is the plan?" Ed asked.

I almost looked at him.

"I can't really tell you just yet," I said. "I'm waiting for the last piece to slot into place."

"So, you haven't, as yet, got one."

"I've got one," I began. "I just can't-"

"Ho, ho, what do we have here then?" came a booming voice.

Across the littered sand marched Bigman Beung in what could only be described as an admiral's uniform. It had more ribbons and twirls than a rhythmic gym club. It was lousy timing. The last thing I needed was drama with our sleazy headman.

"Beung," I said, "what are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here is a more likely question," he said. "And I must say I am very fond of the way your wet T-shirt adheres to your little brassiere, by the way."

I was still damp from my attempt to rescue Grandad Jah. That and sweating, and I'd probably end up with pneumonia. I fluffed out my T-shirt, but his gaze remained on my chest.

"We're having a launch party for Ed's new boat," I lied. "Grandad's gone to fetch the firecrackers. The monk's just left."

I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Ed and PI Meng backing me up, but they were off along the beach having a stroll.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Odd, that, considering we already had a launch ceremony for him three weeks ago."

"Yeah, right. But this is a private, family celebration. To thank him for all the good grass cutting he's done for us over the past year."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

My breasts were heavy from his gaze, so it was a relief when he finally looked me in the eye.

"You shouldn't lie to a village headman, little Jimm."

"I'm not exactly-"

"Why do you suppose I'm here?"

"I don't know. To inspect the latrines?"

"Now, does this look like a sanitation uniform to you?

He was right. It certainly didn't. It looked like a Gilbert and Sullivan costume.

"I'm here for the voyage," he said.

"Where are you going?"

"Where are we going?"

I shook my head.

"Captain Kow phoned me," he said.

A chunk of meteorite fell from space and landed in my stomach.

"W-why?"

"Don't look so surprised, honey. Me and the captain are like this."

He wound his fingers around each other like a nautical knot. I suddenly hated Captain Kow. In one foul phone call he'd doomed our project to failure. I was ready to call it off there and then. To make matters worse, Beung took my hand in his. His fingers were greasy.

"I'm the main man in these parts. Don't forget that. Me and the captain have been keeping our eyes on those deep-sea vessels."

"You have?"

"We may look like a disorganized rabble, but the Maprao Coastal Watch has its finger on the pulse."

His thumb caressed my palm.

"And?"

"We've long suspected foul play out there. Your findings have proven us correct. But we knew that we would be up against influential figures. We weren't certain how to progress. We lacked a solid plan."

I knew what was coming next.

"What's our plan?" he asked.

"I don't exactly-"

There was a scream from up the beach. Mair came running toward us, waving both arms at the same time, as if scaring off imaginary birds. All the crew members gathered around her, waiting for her to catch her breath. When her voice arrived, it did so in a conspiratorial whisper. We couldn't hear a word.