Chapter Eleven

Dear Comrade Pilot

Chief Inspector Phosy held on to a facial expression full of confidence for as long as was humanly possible. Not one wrinkle of doubt was visible. But, unseen by his colleagues, his intestines had unraveled. What had he done? There were the three of them, still in the concrete factory, still chained, still hungry. And they’d said goodbye and thank you to their kidnapper and he’d left. He’d promised he’d get the key. He said he understood what Phosy had said about the evidence exonerating his daughter and believed him. But he’d been gone for six hours and a lot of thought can go into six hours.

“Do you think . . . ?” said Jiep.

“Shut up,” said Phosy.

“I just . . .” said Jiep.

“Shut up,” said Sihot.

Comrade Ouan had kindly put a new wick in the lamp before he left. To keep his mind off their predicament, Phosy was watching a spider construct a huge web on the wall above them. This seemed a ridiculous waste of time considering they were in a concrete room that wasn’t on the flight path of any winged insects. He wondered how many more hours he’d have to study that web. He thought about Malee and whether she’d grow up to be a surgeon or just a regular doctor. He thought about Dtui and wondered whether he’d have married her if she wasn’t as large as she was. Probably not. He liked big women. And he thought about whether he’d live on in history as the chief inspector who was found mummified with two good men some hundred years in the future.

He turned his head from the web to see a girl of around eight with a baby of about three months in a sling on her back.

“Are you the policemen?” asked the girl.

“We are,” said Sihot.

“I’m to tell you my dad has to go away for a while,” she said. “Sorry he was slow. He had to pack.”

“I hope he’s going somewhere nice,” said Sihot.

“I don’t know,” she said. She looked confused. He’d disturbed her train of thought.

“What else did he tell you, love?” asked Phosy.

The baby started to cry. The three men in the room were of a mind to join it.

“I’m to tell you that Mimi is back home now and she’ll be looking after us all. We don’t have a mother.”

“Mimi’s your older sister?” said Phosy.

“Yes.”

“And your dad’s name is Ouan.”

“I know.”

Phosy’s intestines returned to their rightful place.

“And did he give you something for us?” he asked.

“Only this,” she said, holding up a bunch of keys. “But you have to promise.”

“Promise what, love?”