Daeng was taking her sweet time. The guard had learned from his colleague’s mistake and he sat back far enough to keep his weapon out of the reach of the old woman. She was grumbling although he had no idea what she said. He could see the top of her head above the latticed fence that served as the village latrine. The others had told him to shoot her if she tried anything. But she was staring down the barrel of an AK-47 and he knew she wouldn’t be that stupid. She was old, probably older than his mother. He hated old people. He’d have no hesitation in . . .

Her head dipped below the top of the fence. First, he assumed it was all part of the natural process of doing her business but the seconds rolled by and he became anxious. What if she’d fallen down the pit? What if she’d had a heart attack? He got to his feet, hurried to the latrine, and peered over the fence.

“Shit!”

One segment of the rear fence was flat on the ground. The bitch had escaped. But how far could she get at her age? He ran into the smelly compound and through the gap. He stopped for a brief moment to guess which route she might have taken into the jungle. But that moment was his downfall. Daeng was crouching behind the next segment of fencing. He only had time to get a glimpse of her before she was on him. Not even a second to turn his gun on her. He felt her hands like metal clamps around his neck and heard the snap. And that was the last thing he’d ever hear.

While planning his attack on his captors, Roper had lost control of his bladder. Only the pilot seemed to have noticed, smiling rudely at the Englishman. But Roper had gone beyond the need for decency. He was about to launch himself at several armed guards. He’d overpower the zit-picker, take his gun, and then . . .

At that moment, two women came walking toward the pavilion. One of the guards gestured for them to go back, but they kept coming. And then there was another woman, then two more. They emerged from the huts like sleepwalkers. The guards shouted again, and again they were ignored. It was as if every woman in the village had come to the pavilion. There was dialogue too fast and too intense for Roper to pick up but the sentiment was clear. One elderly woman took the gun from one of the men, perhaps her son. Another group gathered around a second man. Roper looked behind him. The guard had gone to reason with the women and left his weapon where it was. Roper stepped backward in its direction but the pilot beat him to it.