“Nice and easy,” Edwin told her.

Her eyes were wide and she blinked rapidly at him. “Who are you?”

“You need to relax. You’ve been very unwell.”

She looked from Edwin to Milton. He could see that she didn’t recognise him, either.

Her voice was dry and scratchy. “What the hell happened? Where am I?”

She looked as if she was about to get off the bed. Milton stepped around the doctor, sat down next to her and rested a hand on her forearm, careful not to dislodge the cannula.

“Do you remember me?”

She looked at his face and blinked slowly.

“I’m John,” he said. “We met on the plane. You upgraded me.”

“Shit,” she said. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“It’s okay,” he said as reassuringly as he could. “You’re safe.”

“But where am I?”

“In a hotel.”

“Where?”

“Bali.” He nodded at Edwin. “This is Edwin. He’s a doctor.”

Sakura looked at the medic with wild eyes. “Why do I need a doctor?”

“You told me you were feeling unwell on the plane. And then you collapsed.”

Edwin put his medical equipment back into his bag. “I’m just going to get more supplies,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.” He looked down disapprovingly at Sakura. “We’re not done just yet, young lady. But I think the two of you need to have a chat. I won’t be long.”

Edwin closed his briefcase, then turned away and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

“I collapsed?” Sakura said.

“You did. Just before we were due to go through immigration.”

“So… I don’t get it. How…”

“How did you get here? I had to be creative—let’s leave it at that for now.”

She shook her head. “I’ve not been feeling well for the last few days, to be honest. Not been eating properly. I was starting—”

Milton cut over her. “I know what happened. What you did. You told me.”

She bit her lip. “I did?”

He nodded.

“And you still helped me?”

“You told me about your son,” he said. “You said that the yakuza in Tokyo are using him to force you to smuggle drugs for them. Someone called Takashi. Is that true?”

She looked away and nodded.

“You were in a bad way. I could have left you, but you wouldn’t have got out of the airport. And I’m sure you know what they do to drug smugglers here. You would have been locked up for life, and that’s only if you were lucky and had a friendly judge. You could have got the firing squad.” He angled his face so that he could look into her eyes. “I don’t approve of drugs. I’ve seen what they can do to people. But if you’re telling the truth—”

“I am,” she pleaded.

“Then there are extenuating circumstances. And maybe I can help.”