Why am I here? I've done nothing.’He ignored my outburst. ‘Who is your business with?’‘A businessman called Kritsada. Look, can I talk to the ...British Embassy?I'm British.’‘You have no identity papers, how do I know who you are?’‘My passport was in my bag which was in our car. It caught fire on theroad when the bomb went off.’The next question knocked me sideways. ‘What are you doing forJandaeng?’I stared at him. ‘What?’‘What are you doing for Jandaeng?’My mind was reeling. If he's asking me. "Todd! Todd! Come here!" my brother yelled as I turned and saw him standing in the hall, holding a towel in front of him. I walked back toward his room as he asked, "Just what did you see, Todd? How much did you see?"Oh, he was pissed-off."Well, look, I heard something and, you know, your door wasn't closed all the way. So, um, yeah, I saw you two, you know, doing, uh, fucking each other. I'm sorry, I didn't do it on purpose, it just happened, okay?" So you weren't spying on us?" he asked as. Just hanging in," she replied. She stared at me looking like a bad imitation of a cinema vamp, the kind that has the hero falling all over himself to please her while she is getting them into all kinds of impossible situations. If she stopped acting like a tart she would be even more attractive. Her manners and her approach to life made her appear to be just another low class girl — ill-mannered, a little uncouth and loud. Circumstances had moulded her character. She was what she had become. Most of what I'd said to Sandy had been a part of my effort to persuade her not to abandon me while the team was on the road.Now that she'd taken a definite stand against accompanying me on the next road trip, we could at least drop that sore topic and focus on something else. I found out a little more about Sandy's work as a columnist and free-lance journalist, and she couldn't disguise her pride when she told me that she was also a creative writer."It isn't anything much," she said. "I mean,.