Nurse Dtui arrived at police headquarters at seven the next morning with Malee at the end of a rope. The child had learned how to walk but not how to walk at heel. She was a maniac for beelines that took her across roads and through hedges. Admittedly there were few vehicles on the streets but Dtui knew her daughter had to learn how to curb herself and her enthusiasm. Hence the rope. It was attached to a small pack on her back rather than around her neck but it still raised eyebrows from passersby. Dtui led her girl to the reception desk.

“Hello, Dtui. Good morning, Malee,” said the old woman who sat behind it. Reception was still a novelty in socialist Laos. You’d normally walk from office to office until you found the person you were looking for, but Phosy was a leader ahead of his time. He demanded efficiency.

“Any news from Malee’s daddy?” Dtui asked.

“Not yet,” said the woman. “But don’t forget they’re in Vang Vieng. There’s no post office or telephone line.”

“I know,” said Dtui. “But at least he could have left a message with the pilot if he wasn’t going to make the flight back.”

“Look, darling,” said the kindly old lady, a mother and granny herself. “Here’s what probably happened. Sihot went to Vang Vieng and got injured or sick. Phosy found him and arranged to take him to a military base where they have a medic. As soon as he can, he’ll send word via a military wireless network and that news will eventually find its way to us.”

“You’re right,” said Dtui. “My imagination is far too wild.”

“Dtui, they’re in Vang Vieng. It’s a beautiful part of the country and, believe me, nothing bad ever happens there.”

So, there they were; the two highest-ranking policemen in the country and a promising youngster, chained by the ankles to an iron girder that extended from one concrete wall to the other. There was a single door beyond their reach and no windows. The crack around the door provided their only natural illumination, although there was a small lamp constantly lit in the far corner that emitted a yellow glow. The lack of sunlight gave the room an eerie chill. Ouan, the resort proprietor, brought them food and water and emptied the buckets they used for their waste. But despite all their questioning and pleading, Ouan said not a single word. The policemen had exhausted all logical suggestions as to why they were there and what would become of them.