“I have a typical country practice,” Tse said. “I have a small dispensary which is responsible for health education, immunizations, and birth control for nearly four thousand rural people. We treat minor illnesses and minor accidents and refer to the district hospital when necessary.”

“Do you use traditional Chinese medicine?” Marissa asked.

“We use it if the patient requests it,” Tse said. “We have access to herbalists and acupuncturists. But I was trained in modern medicine in Guangzhou although I have little modern equipment to use.”

Marissa looked at Tristan. “I’m running out of questions,” she said.

“Me too,” Tristan said. He shifted his position. They were all sitting cross-legged on the deck. Readdressing Tse, he said: “Who was it that recruited you?”

“The White Lotus Triad,” Tse said.

“There are triads in the PRC?” Marissa asked.

“Very much so,” Bentley interjected. “After all, it was from mainland China that they originated.”

“Ask the monk why it is important that he know Chinese martial arts,” Tristan said.

“I can answer,” Tse said. “Chiang has been tasked to protect me.”

“Why do you need protection?” Tristan asked.

“That I do not know,” Tse admitted.

“Have either of you been out of the PRC before?” Tristan asked.

“Never,” Tse said.

“And you have no baggage with you?”

“None.”

“Are you carrying anything on your person?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you have any drugs with you?”

“None.”

“And you are doing this for money?”

Tse nodded. “We have been promised many years’ wages. I was already given one year’s wages before I left.”

“How long are you supposed to be away?” Tristan asked.

“I am unsure,” Tse said. “One year, maybe two at the most.”

Tristan ran a hand through his hair. He shook his head and cast a dismayed look at Marissa. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything else to ask. I’m baffled.”

All of a sudden the group realized they weren’t alone. Looking up, they saw that the captain had come forward. Once he had gotten their attention, he spoke.

Bentley translated: “The captain wants to know if we want to eat. His wife has prepared a meal for all of us.”

“Why not?” Tristan said, getting to his feet. “We should get something for my bloody three thousand five hundred Hong Kong dollars.”

Several hours later, Marissa and Tristan were lying together on bamboo mats on the poop deck. It was the only place they could be alone. Except for an occasional mosquito and the cool, damp breeze, they were comfortable.

Marissa had not eaten anything. Instead she’d drunk most of the water they’d brought on board. Her nausea and vomiting earlier had left her dehydrated.