I'd left Kityakara half an hour ago and he'd wanted to give me an escort to take me back to the Red Orchid, but I'd said no. On the face of it the mission they had to offer looked feasible, and at this stage I didn't want to be seen around any more with security men. In any case I wanted to stay on a bit here and check out the guests to see if I knew anyone. Pepperidge: As far as liaison goes, you 'II have to pick a few people yourself.

I'd already noticed Mason, DI6, backed up into a corner with a glass of champagne; he'd been doing a little reconnaissance work from time to time, moving in to some Arabs in the thick of the crowd and standing with his back to them, tuning in. He hadn't picked up much, by the look of things. A stringer for the Telegraph was near the staircase and I would have gone over, because the man had done me a good turn a year or so ago in Hong Kong; but he was deep in chat with a stunning young Eurasian girl and I didn't want to spoil his fun. There wasn't, in any case, all that much chance of finding anyone at an embassy party who'd be any use to me in this kind of mission, if I took it on. I'd need people I could trust with my life.

I'd asked Kityakara, 'What decided you to call on London?'

'It was a joint decision.' The Prince had asked the other two men to leave him in private with Mr Jordan. 'Major-general Vasuratna,' he told me, when they'd gone, 'has run some very successful operations in the past, but those three agents are on his conscience. Last week one of his aides found him sitting at his desk with a gun to his head.' He leaned forward on the edge of the brocade chair, his slight body at an angle. 'I have no one else capable of undertaking a task so critical - and so dangerous. To attempt to get anywhere near Mariko Shoda is like walking through a minefield. I want you to understand that.'

I gave it some thought. 'Did you know I was coming here personally?'

'No. We simply asked for someone of the highest capability.'

'How did you contact London, sir?'

'I approached the Foreign Office.'

'Directly?'

'No, through your ambassador in Bangkok.'

'In a personal meeting?'

'Yes.'

'Was there anyone else present?'

'No one.'

'Did he contact DI6?'

'I'm afraid I have no idea. I was told he would find someone if he could.'

I got up and went to the window. The rain had almost stopped, and there was only the sound of dripping from the flooded gutters under the eaves outside. There were things I didn't like about this whole setup. I'd moved into the field across dead bodies before, though I'd always taken a lot of persuasion because they might have messed things up when they were alive - in this case the opposition had been alerted three times already. I was still prepared to go in, if I could find some kind of access, but it worried me that I'd been offered this mission by sheer chance, and by a burnt-out spook with a gutful of worms.

I didn't like it. I didn't like it to the extent that as I sat facing Prince Kityakara in the silence of the little room I could feel the hairs rising on the back of my hands and that sour, familiar chill along the nerves.

'Why did you contact London, sir, instead of Washington, considering the background you've given me?'

'Major-general Vasuratna is well-versed in the international intelligence field.' He left his chair and limped to join me at the window. 'He told me that the CIA tends to work as a team, often with paramilitary support. He believes, despite our lack of success so far, that it's still a case for a single agent going in alone, without attracting attention. You people have a certain reputation for that approach.' He used his inhaler. 'Of course, that might not be accurate, and in any case I'm not pressing you for a decision immediately. Give it your consideration, Mr Jordan, for a day or two, and then let me know.'

'All right.'

'At this stage I'll simply tell you that since you would be working for the Thai government on private service, we would expect you to name your own fee. And of course you would have unquestioned access to personnel and facilities in our security and intelligence services.'

I'd stayed another ten minutes to let him end the meeting with some diplomatic small-talk, then shook hands with him and left him standing there in the ornate little room with a courteous smile and his eyes still hidden by his tinted glasses.

'Thompson, isn't it?'

'What?'

'Bill Thompson?'

'No.'

'Oh. Sorry.'

He weaved away, a pink hand wiggling in apology. By this time people were starting to bump into each other, spilling their drinks.

On my way through the marbled entrance hall I checked for company and saw none: I'd told Kityakara I didn't want any and he'd understood. He was obviously 'Could you help me?'

The girl in the green silk dress, her eyes dark, angry.

I stopped. 'How?'

'Just see me into a taxi, would you?' She was looking behind her, without turning her head.

'Of course.'

She took my arm and we walked out between the two uniformed staff and down the steps. The street was running with irridescent water under the lamps, and a boy was sloshing through puddles. Our feet were soaked and as I opened the door of the taxi for her she slipped quickly inside and began tugging a bright green shoe off.

'You'll be all right now?' But she just pulled the door shut and I stood back from the storm drain as the taxi pulled away. A last glimpse of her pale face through the window.

'Please excuse - Mr Jordan?'

A chauffeur in navy-blue uniform with the Thai insignia.

'Yes?'

'I have a car here, sir. Please this way.'

I followed him along the streaming pavement and got into the limousine. The driver closed the door and went round to the front.

Shoes off, yes, a good idea. They felt. Good evening, Mr Jordan.'

She was in the shadows, half-lost in the opposite corner, small, Asian, her voice childlike. Now she sat forward at attention, legs together, hands clasped on her lap, giving me a little bow. 'My name is Yasma.'

Asian hospitality.

I couldn't see her in detail even now; there was just the impression of liquid eyes set in heavy kohl makeup, the glow of ivory skin and the scent of jasmine.

'I'm happy to meet you, Yasma.' I leaned forward to tell the driver to pull up, because I didn't like women being used as toys; then I let it go. 'Where would you like to have dinner?' She'd be interesting to talk to for a while: she'd be informative on the local scene; then I'd get her a cab.

'Wherever it would please you, Mr Jordan.'

'Is the Siam Garden still going?'

'Yes.'

I told the driver and sat back. 'How pretty you are, Yasma. Were you born in Thailand?"