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

He smiled at the lieutenant.

"I'll kill him here and bury him in the bushes."

"Oh, yes. By all means, let's do that," said Mair. "We can't possibly rely on the system."

Sissi looked back and forth between the two, wondering where the bad cop/bad cop routine might end. Or indeed, if it was a routine at all. Chompu was eyeing the lieutenant hungrily.

"Mair," said Chompu, "I think you'd better avert your eyes. I'm about to do something quite obscene with this prisoner." He put down the Taser and picked up one of the sharp knives they'd confiscated from the rat brothers.

"Son, I've been around," she said.

"So be it."

Chompu strode around the three prisoners and knelt at their heads. With the knife in his left hand, he reached forward with his right and grabbed the thatch that sat atop Lieutenant Egg's skull. He yanked with all his might.

There was a faint ripping sound but little resistance. Chompu held his scalp aloft and looked down at the sorry state of Egg's head. It was a sight of rampant deforestation. Of butchery and disease. It was a hopeless head.

"How's everything going? Sissi asked. He and Mair had been about to use the provided key to reenter the Internet shop, but the door was unlocked. There were a dozen people sitting on stools at the computers. All were viewing the slavery site.

"Who…who are you?" asked the spotty owner, rising from the comfortable swivel chair.

"Such a short memory," said Sissi in his baggage-handler voice. "How's the block holding up?"

"It's you," said Spotty, sitting back down.

"Right. I'm in disguise. Get out of my seat. And what are all these people doing here?"

The lad fled to his desk.

"This is my Twitter network," he said. "I couldn't keep them away."

"All twelve of them? You're a popular man."

Sissi checked the counter and smiled at Mair.

"Eight hundred and ninety thousand," she said. "Almost the population of Swaziland have spent some of the last four hours watching our slaver drama unfold. Not bad. Not bad at all. Even if you assume that seventy percent of them will be too spaced out or high or sleepy to notice it's reality, or to care, there'll still be a happy band of activists and journalists and bloggers in search of a point. There'll be some big names voicing outrage that we haven't come a long way since the thirteenth century."

"Who's your friend?" the shop owner asked quietly, grinning at Mair, who flirted demurely back at him.

"Don't even think about it," said Sissi. "What's happening on the site?"

The owner reluctantly left Mair's gaze and returned to the computer.

"It's dark," said the man.

"I can see that," said Sissi. "The XR2's got night vision. Why isn't she using it?"

"Ah, but Jimm and Ed have turned all their lights off," said a soft man with a feathery mustache.

"That doesn't make any…" Sissi started.

"Those lights up ahead," said a young woman with bluish skin, "they're the slaver boats. Ed's using the tide to drift nearer to them. Everyone on Ed's boat has taken a vow of silence except for Jimm, and she's whispering her commentary. Even so they're afraid the sound might carry in the night air. It's like…incredibly intense."

"It makes The Blair Witch Project look like it wasn't real," said the mustache man.

"It wasn't real," said Sissi.

"You say," said the owner and winked at Mair.

"Yeah, OK." Sissi got the feeling she was losing control. "Mair, are you sure you don't want to go and get changed?"

"Yes."

"OK, so let's turn up the volume and see what our sibling is talking about," said Sissi.

"About time," said blue skin.

Live Internet feed. 9:44 P.M. Gulf of Thailand

(CLOSE-UP JIMM)

JIMM:…and so we've come up with a plan. It's dicey, but we have few options. Grandad Jah and Waew have been plying the ferry skipper with rum. Combined with whatever made him high earlier, he's now completely out of his mind.

(PAN AROUND TO SHOW THE OLD MEN ENCOURAGING THE SKIPPER TO DRINK FROM THE BOTTLE. CAMERA CONTINUES AROUND TO SHOW ARNY AND GAEW HALF UNDRESSED.)

JIMM: Our brave volunteers, my brother Arny and his fiancee, Gaew, are disguising themselves to look like Burmese peasants. That's Arny ripping his T-shirt. And there's Bigman Beung attempting to rip the T-shirt of Gaew. And that's Gaew punching him in the solar plexus-a lot quieter than slapping his face. You can see the tension's mounting here. Arny and Gaew will travel on the slave ferry with the inebriated skipper and PI Meng as captain, and me, hidden under a plastic tarpaulin. Ed and Bigman Beung will head off east and circle round. Captain Kow and Waew and Grandad Jah will do the same to the west. As we won't be able to outshoot them, we'll have to try the same tactic that got us access to the ferry. If we can convince them we're there in some official capacity, it might buy us time to get aboard and disarm them. That, at least, is the theory.

(CAMERA TAKEN DOWN INTO THE SMALL BOAT, AND WE SEE THE SKIPPER PROPPED UP AGAINST THE LITTLE CABIN AND PI MENG AT THE RUDDER.)

JIMM: And off we go. It's a fine evening for a raid. The rain has stopped now, but let's hope that the cloud cover remains. There's a full moon up there somewhere, and on a bright night you can see for miles by moonlight. At some point, when this boat is close to the three slavers, they'll turn their lights in our direction. I'll continue this broadcast from beneath the tarpaulin. (ZOOM IN ON THE PASSENGERS) But for now I'm on the open boat with my brave brother and his lady friend. How are you feeling, Gaew?

GAEW: It's like before a big bodybuilding tournament, you know? The butterflies. Not knowing what's going to happen. No access to steroids. But I feel proud tonight.

JIMM: Proud about what?

GAEW: Proud of my man here. He was the first one to volunteer. No hesitation. That's what I like. A brave, decisive man. In situations like this, you find out who a person really is.

(CLOSE-UP ON A VERY PALE-LOOKING ARNY)

JIMM: And what about you, little brother?

ARNY: OK.

JIMM: That's all?

ARNY: Yeah.

JIMM: There you have it. A strong man of action but few words. Good luck to both of you. We will see-

PI MENG: Jimm, get down.

(CAMERA LENS IS BLINDED BY A STRONG ARC OF LIGHT. WE SEE A MASH OF ANGLES AND SKY AND A BLUR OF ACTIVITY. SHOUTED VOICES IN THE BACKGROUND. A ROUND OF GUNFIRE. THE SCREEN GOES BLACK. ALL WE HEAR IS THE SOUND OF HEAVY BREATHING, AS IF IT'S COMING FROM THE COMPUTER ITSELF. THIS IS ALL WE HAVE FOR ALMOST A MINUTE. AT LAST THERE IS AN EXTREME CLOSE-UP OF JIMM UNDER THE PLASTIC. NOSE RUNNING. NIGHT VISION. A FACE WRUNG WITH PANIC.)

JIMM: (WHISPERED) They…they've spotted us. That came (BREATHS) came much faster than we expected. Their spotlights are on us. I don't know if they've seen me. I was directly in their beam…I don't…just don't know. One of the guards fired at us. PI Meng stopped our engine and put up his hands. They shouted for us to state our business. They…wait, it's hard to hear everything from…OK, PI Meng is telling them the story we worked out. He's the skipper's nephew. The skipper's so stoned he radioed for his nephew to come and help him get home. But in the boat the nephew found two more Burmese hidden under the tarpaulin. Wait. I can hear one of the boats start up its engine. PI Meng's doing a good job in the telling of this lie, but I don't know if the slavers are buying it. I can't see anything. I hope they don't hear the engines of our other two boats.

It sounds like one of their slaver ships is alongside us now. The voices seem to be right over me. I'll have to be…to be careful. Praise Clint they don't come on board.

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)

JIMM: The slaver boss seems to be angry. He's shouting at the ferry skipper, but he's not getting any answer. Not surprising, considering the amount of rum we poured into him. I'll translate.