Jesus Christ what's he telling them now but it's too late anyway because I'm past the point of no return and in the end it's going to depend on karma, kismet, whatever the hell you want to call it, running with sweat, the bastards are coming after me, I can hear them, keep on walking and don't look back, look straight ahead, it's such a pretty view.

21 WATER-BED.

'Are you all right?'

'Yes.'

'Where -' she left it.

Hot as hell, and humid. Phone sticky in my hand.

'Listen, there's something you might be able to do for me.'

'Anything,' she said.

'What's your signals staff like at the High Commission?'

'Pretty keen types. They're friends of mine.'

Slapped my left arm, left a streak of blood.

'Ask them if they can monitor a signal on Megahertz 416, short wave. They'll need to understand Cambodian.'

'I'll try. Who's sending the signals?'

'Shoda.'

'Who?'

Line rather dodgy, wonder it worked at all in this beaten-up hole.

'Mariko Shoda."

Silence, then, 'My God... But why should she - oh, you mean she's being bugged?

'Yes. Strictly under your hat, Katie.'

'Of course. I'll start action on it right away. Is that everything?'

'For now.'

'You mean we need a round-the-clock monitor, don't you?'

'Yes.' I should have thought of that, walked forty kilometres through the heat of the day, no bloody excuse. 'Yes, nonstop.'

'All right. Martin, this is very good, isn't it? How did -' left it. 'Very important, isn't it?'

20* 'Yes. I've got to go now.'

'All right. When can I see -' hesitated, left it again. 'Take care.'

Rang off.

How many degrees was it in here? It was a wonder the bloody mosquitoes could even fly, the fan didn't work - the last time it was switched on it left the ceiling charred, a close thing in a place like this.

I got the operator again and asked for the number and waited.

View through the filthy window pane of the street, the only one they had here, no cars on it, just mules and cycles and people walking, a lot of them bent double under yoked baskets full of poppy seeds, this whole place reeked of wet sacking and something else, something bitter-sweet; there was a refinery across there by the look of it, a ramshackle corrugated-iron hangar like a lab, long windows, daylight tubing; it was getting near sundown.

The thumping from the next room got faster, then some moaning; the bed was against the wall and kept on hitting it. Girls everywhere when I'd checked in, Wanna girl? No, but have you got anything for mosquito bites? Gave me a bottle, kept a whole supply on the front desk.

Chinese, one word.

'Chen?'

'Who are you?' In English.

'Jordan.'

Short silence. 'Jesus, you're still alive?'

'Listen, Johnny. Your place is bugged.'

'Say again?'

'There's some kind of electronic surveillance on your place. A bug:

Just crackling on the line for a bit.

'No way. It's never left empty.' But he sounded shaken.

'Then it could be somewhere in the telephone circuit outside, or on a wall. You need to have a good look.'

Silence again, then: 'Are you sure?'

'Yes.'

'How -' he left it, just like Katie, because he'd realised that if I were right, we were being bugged now. 'Okay. Over and out.'

I rang off. Priorities first. The most urgent thing had been to man the monitor on Shoda and start logging her signals. The next had been to warn Chen and I'd done that. What I hadn't done was to ask him if he could fly me out of here, but I wasn't putting that on the bug. I'd give Katie an hour and phone her again.

My aircrew uniform was pretty well in shreds after the drop and the trek through the jungle and I went into the street and found a shop-house festooned with jeans and jackets and kimonos and bush-shirts and spent some time there and then took the clothes I needed back to the hotel and had a shower and changed, smearing the mosquito stuff on my face and hands again as the sun went down across the jungle. I shut the window and pulled the thin faded blind down and put on the only light, a bulb in the ceiling.

Katie wasn't at her flat so I tried the High Commission and got her.

'We're running,' she said.