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bundles of weed as they were tossed from the deck of a fishing boat, usually during a bad storm. The Thai navy doesn't like bad storms, and tend to stay in port while they're happening. He owned a couple of the bars in Patong and had a small crew. Mostly retired but still connected, I could trust him to keep his mouth shut and get things done.
     
    “Khun Cheep Sawadee Krup...” there was a scream, and the sound of the phone hitting something hard. Disconnected. I hit redial.
     
    “Khun Cheep. Hello. Khun Cheep. Are you there?”
     
    “Who is this?” His voice sounded weird. Oh shit, of course.
     
    “Hey Khun Cheep, don't worry man. I'm not a ghost.”
     
    “That's exactly what a smart ghost would say.”
     
    “Khun Cheep, it's me - the this-life me. I'm alive. We faked the death for reasons I don't have time to explain, but I've got some problems and I need your help.”
     
    “You scared the hell out of me. I nearly pissed myself.” He was half angry now, his voice petulant with indignation.
     
    “Would sending an SMS been better?”
     
    “No. Okay, what's the problem?”
     
    I outlined the situation to Cheep. He was as furious as I was about Lilly and promised to work with Mother to arrange a good funeral. Meanwhile he'd put his boys on canvassing the area to see if we could come up with anything.
     
    “Keep the news that I'm alive to yourself, okay. And tomorrow go get a few phones and some SIM cards Chai will update you with numbers to call.”
     
    “Don't worry, Chance. Your uncle is my best friend in the world. Whatever you want, you call. When we find these people we kill them all. Yes?”
     
    “Yes, Cheep. We kill them all.”
     
    Uncle's Internet history came up with a bunch of investment forums, stock trading sites, news, music, Amazon and eBay. Nothing unusual. I went through his cache. Nothing. It was nearly 1 am. I debated having a drink, but with the painkillers Dr. Tom had given me, I persuaded myself not to. The pain was good for keeping me awake. I went back to the hard drive. More out of hope than conviction, I kept looking.
     
    An hour later I still had nothing. And I had nothing left. Something was nagging at me, something that I knew I should be getting but I wasn't. The thought spun out to the sound of a fishing boat heading out to sea.
     
     

Natasha from Odessa
    14 May 2010 Phuket 7:15 am
     
     
    Skype. The first word in my mind when I woke up. The Lisp had said don't bother trying to trace him because he was using Skype. Was that how they found Uncle Mike? Did Uncle Mike use Skype? I jumped out of bed, excited, heading for the living room. This was what had been nagging at me. A sharp pain in my arm, I turned. The IV drip machine hit me in the face, I'd forgotten to disconnect. I sat back down on the bed and got the plug out of the needle. I taped the needle back up. Not the best start to a day. It was 7:15 am. I was late getting up. I usually get up at 5, gives me more day.
     
    Chai was in the open kitchen of the living room making coffee. It smelled good. The TV was on with the volume muted, Government Spokesman Colonel Sanserm all dimples. Sitting down on sofa, I grabbed the remote and turned the volume up while I booted up my notebook. I hoped that during the night a solution had been found to the political mess we were in. My hope was short-lived as Colonel Sanserm laid out the terms by which protestors had to leave the Ratchprasong rally site or face forceful eviction. To give you Farang a better idea of what was happening here in the Land of Smiles; imagine if a group of armed civilians took over Times Square and then fortified the area they had with a 12 feet high wall of sharpened bamboo stakes and rubber tires. And every now and then someone fired an M-79 grenade launcher at groups of people protesting against those behind the bamboo stakes.
     
    The notebook was up and I switched to Uncle Mike's back up drive. Yes. Skype was there. I disconnected from