The airport departure lounge was stiflingly hot. 

You would have thought, Cassie Hamilton reflected, that in a steaming country like this, the country which now called itself Myanmar but which everybody else still called Burma, they would have invested in more efficient air conditioning systems.  But of course, the government here was far too busy lining their own pockets and keeping the population subdued.

What was more frustrating still was the fact they were no closer to departure now than they were two hours ago.  Cassie’s father, despite being a successful businessman experienced in dealing with this sort of petty, corrupt bureaucracy, was coming up against a brick wall.  Perhaps it was their own fault for using this smaller airport rather than the main city one, but it would have saved them a lot of time had it not been for all this.  The guards simply would not let them board the plane and made vague, continual and conflicting claims about what the problem was.

There should not have been any problem.  Mr Hamilton was here on company business, his wife doubling as his personal assistant and Cassie, their nineteen year-old daughter on holiday from university, had come with them for a bit of a holiday.  Everything had been fine until now, but these irritating goons were spoiling it all.  Cassie had not missed the occasional furtive glances they sent in her direction, either.  She was a slightly sheltered girl but quite astute and she could guess the nature of the inaudible comments the guards whispered between themselves as the arguments between their chief and Mr Hamilton dragged on.

Charles Hamilton hadn’t missed the glances and comments either and he too had a pretty good idea about them.  He was proudly aware that his daughter drew a lot more admiring looks than she realised and why not?  She was sensationally good looking, her blonde shoulder length hair framing a very pretty face above a fabulously shaped body.  What was even more pleasing was that while she took care over her appearance, she didn’t preen herself or have any great ego: instead, she was demure and modest.  Just about to start her second year at Brighton University, she was also extremely intelligent and capable and a loving and devoted daughter uncorrupted by the modern world.  She didn’t drink or smoke, looked after her health and, to the best of his knowledge, was still a virgin, although if that was the case (which in fact it was) it was her choice rather than from pressure from him or his wife.  Cassie was old enough to make her own decisions and he trusted her totally.  She chatted happily to the boys and dated light-heartedly from time to time, but hadn’t gone in for any deeper relationships.  In her first year away from home at university she had been a model student without being bookish or boring.  It had been delightful to have her back with him and his wife Joan during this holiday, but now it looked as if they would be split up once more.

He turned to Joan and Cassie.  “I’m getting nowhere with this lot,” he sighed wearily.  “They say they have instructions from higher up that you and I, Joan, can’t leave until we have been interviewed by their superiors to sort out whatever the problem is.  A car is on its way to take us to the police headquarters for that.  Cassie, it looks as if you’ll be going back alone on this flight.  We’ll follow later.”

“Can’t I wait with you and take the later flight as well?” Cassie asked in her mellifluous, educated tones.

“It’s probably not a good idea,” her father replied.  “I don’t trust these men and frankly you’re a distraction to them.”  Cassie coloured delightfully but nodded to acknowledge the point.  “Take the car home from Heathrow and we’ll phone for you to pick us up once we’re on the way.”

 

But two days after her arrival home there was still no word and Cassie was growing increasingly concerned.  She was not one to sit and fret and she had learnt from her father how and where to make enquiries.  Unfortunately she lacked her father’s connections and authority and just got the run-around.  The British authorities, always unwilling to make a fuss as if it was somehow not cricket, suggested she wait for a while longer, whilst the Burmese embassy was even more lethargic.  Her father’s employers, for all that he was a senior manager with the firm, were far too anxious not to upset their trade contacts to make any major noises yet: if nothing happened for a week or so, they promised her, then they would make a move.  Cassie was not reassured.

She was sitting at the family home, having just tried her father’s mobile number for the hundredth time and finding it still switched off, pondering contacting the national newspapers, wondering if raising a stink that way would help or be counter-productive, when there was a knock at the door.  Frowning, she answered it and found herself staring at a man in the uniform of the Burmese military, an officer to judge by the rather pompous braids and stripes.  Although normally a friendly girl, Cassie disliked him on sight, summing him up as a self-important, corrupt little weasel.  Her current problems may have prejudiced her, but his appearance tended to support her view.  He had little piggy eyes, an expression of smug satisfaction with a leer never too far from his lips and a paunch.  He would have been around forty years old, she guessed.  She saw his eyes flick down her figure and was glad she was demurely dressed in blouse and slacks.

“Miss Hamilton?”  Even his voice was slimy.

“Yes?” she said abruptly.

He ignored her hostility.  “I have news regarding your parents,” he said smarmily.  “May I come in?  I don’t think the doorstep is a good place to discuss such things.”

Reluctantly, after having asked for proof of his identity and seeing papers that introduced him as Major Shan, Cassie led him inside.  She didn’t trust him an inch, but this was the first chance she had been given to find out what was happening and make any progress.  She sat well away from him in the lounge and eyed him like something that had just crawled out from beneath a rock.

“Miss Hamilton, I fear that your parents are in serious trouble,” he began.  Fear clutched at Cassie’s heart - she was fully aware of the total corruption of the Burmese junta - but she put a good poker face on.  He went on: “we have been aware for some time that there is a drug smuggling ring operating between our country and London.  After careful investigation, the trail led us to your parents.”

This was a shock.  In Burma, however, she knew that ‘careful investigation’ usually meant picking on whomever the police didn’t like and planting a bag of heroin in their luggage.  Cassie tried to control her nerves.  “My father is a legitimate businessman with a well established and very reputable company,” she said.  “It’s ridiculous to suggest that he would be mixed up in something like this.”

“Well established and reputable companies often make the best covers,” Shan smirked.  “Perhaps unlike your country, we do not rule someone out just because their company has been around for many years or has connections to your aristocracy.”

Cassie bristled at the insult.  “In my country, someone is usually considered innocent until proven guilty,” she countered.  “Where is your evidence?”

He smiled his repulsive smile again.  “That is for the lawyers.  No doubt it will be produced at the trial.” 

“Trial?”  Cassie didn’t like the sound of this at all.

“Yes, of course, there must be a trial.  As you say, guilt must be proven.”

A fair trial was not something Cassie thought likely in Burma.  “When will this trial be?”

“I regret that I do not know, but it may take a while.  At the moment your parents are staying in a hotel under observation until charges are brought.”

“And then?”

“That would depend on whether the judge was inclined to grant bail, but he is unlikely to do so in a case like this where the death penalty is involved.”

“Death penalty!” cried Cassie, aghast.

Shan looked stern.  “In my country, Miss Hamilton, we take drugs offences very seriously.”

Cassie, who had never gone near drugs in her life and refused to have anything to do with anybody who did, could not argue with the basic sentiment; but she knew full well that there was no way her parents would get involved in any way with narcotics.  The Burmese government, on the other hand, were more likely to take drugs seriously because of the lucrative opportunities of profit through it than with any idea of stopping it.  She tried to readjust her poker face, but knew that she was white with worry.

“As I was saying,” Shan continued, “in such cases bail would not be likely.  Your parents would then be held in formal custody until their trial.”

“Formal custody?”

“Prison, Miss Hamilton.”

“But my mother’s health ...”

“Perhaps she should have considered that before becoming involved with drug smuggling,” Shan said piously.  So much for being innocent until proven guilty, Cassie thought, but antagonising this little squirt was perhaps not the best way forward.

“Surely you wouldn’t execute them,” she pleaded, trying the ‘helpless female’ approach.

He shrugged.  “It is not my decision.  However, as foreign nationals, they may receive some clemency: political influence does have a bearing on such cases.  I would not be surprised if your government was able to get the sentence reduced to, say, ten years and fifty lashes each.”

Cassie closed her eyes and tried to stop her head from spinning.  This was all too much to take in.  Desperately she forced her agile mind to focus.  This man had come here for a reason.  Was he looking for a bribe of some sort to free her parents?

“Is there any way,” she said carefully, “to bring any other influence to bear?  So that, for example, the evidence could be reviewed to see if there has maybe been a case of mistaken identity?”

He smiled and settled more comfortably into his chair. Cassie knew she had hit the right note.  “Well, such things are always possible,” he said carefully.

She recognised the prompt; now she had to play things very carefully.  “Do you, perhaps, have that sort of influence, Major Shan?” she asked, deliberately emphasising his rank and injecting a winsome note into her voice to flatter his ego.

“Sadly, I am only a poor foot soldier.  However, I am attached to the office of General Chang.  Working covertly, he may be able to do something.”  Cassie tried to smile encouragingly and waited for the price.  She wondered if her father’s bank account and liquid assets would be able to cover it and if she had sufficient access to the family finances to get enough money together.  But Shan went on: “unfortunately, the general has strong views on the degeneracy of the west.  He’s currently based in this country, at the Burmese Embassy in London, so he has seen the decadence at first hand.  It would be difficult to persuade him to act.”  Cut to the chase, Cassie thought, but outwardly she just put on a sorrowful, helpless look and waited.  “He feels in particular that your younger generation, those of your own age, Miss Hamilton, are rather weak and spineless.”

Cassie forced herself to be patient, wondering where all this was leading.  Perhaps he was angling for another prompt.  “Major Shan,” she said soberly, “we are both intelligent people who understand how the world works.  Clearly I want to help oil the wheels here.  Please speak freely.”

He smiled again; she did not like that smile.  “Yes, I believe that is possible.  General Chang needs to be convinced that your parents are really upstanding citizens.  The best test of that, in his mind, is how they raise their offspring.  Are you, Miss Hamilton, brave, determined, ready to earn your way in the world from your own labours rather than just inherit it or make money from the drug-induced suffering of others?”

Cassie had not the faintest idea of where he was going now.  “I’m afraid you have lost me, Major Shan.”

“Miss Hamilton, the major could use you, by an examination of your character and fortitude, to ascertain for himself the nobility and therefore the innocence of your parents.  Are you up to that challenge, Miss Hamilton?”

Cassie was no clearer for that and the cat and mouse game was fraying her already uptight nerves.  “Major Shan, my parents’ lives are at stake.  I will do whatever I have to do.”

The smile this time reached the piggy eyes.  “I am very pleased to hear you say that, Miss Hamilton.”  He produced an envelope and laid it on the coffee table in front of him.  “In here is an outline which I took the liberty of putting together.  Perhaps you could peruse it and consider if you are prepared to match your words with your deeds.  I will give you a couple of hours to read it and consider, then I shall return and ask for your decision.”  He stood up.  “It would be most unwise at this stage for you to discuss this with others.  Should you do so, the publicity would prevent the general from being able to make the quiet diplomatic moves needed to extricate your parents and to cover ourselves.  I would, if asked, deny that this conversation took place and that I did anything more than call upon you to reassure you that your parents are well and appraise you of the imminent charges against them.”  The threat was very clear.

“I understand, Major Shan,” said Cassie quietly, and rose to show him out.