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climb more difficult. The team leader decided to cut the blanket to make their rope longer. He soon gave up, frustrated with the dull knife and wet blanket.
    For fifteen minutes the team wandered along the wall boundary searching for long poles or a ladder. The older among them knew that this was the most unlikely place to find such things. The questions began.
    ‘Quan,’ growled the large Thai. ‘What time do the kitchen workers begin, mister know-it-all?’
    ‘Six,’ Quan guessed. ‘Do you think you can take two on your shoulders?’
    ‘Two? Easily. But what about me?’
    ‘Don’t worry. We’ll pull you up by the blanket!’
    The moment soon arrived when the emptiness of promises and assumptions echoed with danger. Such words had once been a comfort. Now they were ever so pointless.
    With the strongest forming a base and the combined height of two more shaking and grabbing at air, their human scaffolding reached no more than half the height of the wall. After trying a few more combinations, the five found themselves breathless and panting, huddled below the final barrier. One spoke for them all:
    ‘Okay. Now at least we know what we need. Better we get back inside and try again tomorrow night.’ The speaker was praying for the dull simplicity of a morning doughnut and coffee, as would happen any normal day.
    Without further words the group began walking along the roadway back to their dormitory. The prisoner caked with shit paused near the kitchen to run his head under water from a tap. From the distance came the unmistakable sound of a key unlocking a gate. The group reacted to this without speaking and oddly slowed in their mournful return walk.
    Arriving at Building Four they saw the night guard sitting up on his night-duty bed, smoking the first of the day. He stared ahead, oblivious to the creatures that should not be there. They looked at the tree they must climb to their dormitory. They should have been thinking about the rope that needed re-attaching to the window ledge but they were not. They looked at the cut stumps of the bars and thought of the questions and calamity from their former roommates.
    Quan kept his eyes on the sleepy guard as he spoke softly to his confederates. ‘It’s up to you guys what you want to do. I’m going to talk to Samang.’ To himself Quan said, ‘This is going to cost me.’ He hoped he could now separate himself from the others. Drained by fear the others would not easily separate themselves from Quan, the one with the money.
    ‘Sounds good,’ murmured a voice.
    ‘Looks better if we turn ourselves in,’ seconded another.
    ‘I’m with you,’ joined a third. ‘I’ve got to wash. I stink!’
    A minute later the five stood silently before Samang, the guard. The images of cut bars and twisted mesh fogged in their minds but not to Samang whose eyes widened in shocked pulses. He looked at the gang in disbelief, yielding to fear as daylight rose.
    ‘Samang. Something crazy’s happened,’ Quan reasoned. ‘I’ve got to talk to you. I know you’ll want to help ...’
    Samang was not listening. The moment of uncertainty had passed. The guard knew that even after wringing every last coin out of Quan, he would barely survive this treason with his small world intact.
    Big Bill got out of bed and dressed. That meant standing up from the floor and pulling on a T-shirt. He then felt under his blanket for the yellow form he had been worrying about as he fell asleep the previous night. It was a questionnaire from Amnesty International.
    ‘Dave, take a look at this, will you?’
    ‘Just a moment.’ I was at the dormitory bars trying to find out why we were an hour late being let out. Trouble in another building was all the key boy would say.
    Bill had put the forms aside as I sat next to him. He was inspecting his ankles for damage, a leper’s daily routine. ‘Look at those questions: Can you name the person who tortured you? Give the location and address where this took