Driven ( 1M, please PM first)

CLOSED FOR BRASCHI

OOC: Cheryl, aged 29, 5'3", slim and athletic, 34C

***********************************************************************

Cheryl Cromwell stared in disbelief as the Thai customs officers produced two bags of cocaine from her case.

"But they are not mine!! I have never seen them before! I'm a journalist, for fucks sake!!"

The guard stared coldly at her.

"Sorry! sorry, I dont mean to be rude! But I swear, on my life, I have
Never
Seen
Those
Before!!!"

She was being handcuffed! Jesus Christ!! This was a nightmare!! Prison for drug smuggling in Bangkok! Liklihood of survival was slim!

"My embassy!! Contact the US embassy! I am a journalist, an American citizen! I demand my rights!!!!"

With that she was removed from the public area of the airport!

For the most part, Thomas Adams hated getting calls from Klong Prem; they usually meant a lot extra work and redtape. Cases of some idiot getting caught with drugs by the Royal Police tended to be quite protracted and distracted him for other, more useful areas. But this time that the liason office of the central prison called, Thomas sat up quite alert when he heard the words Cheryl Cromwell over the 'phone.

Even walking through the gates after having fished the dossier from the Embassy did he really believe it. He hadn't seen her in ages, though he did carry a couple of choice clippings in the folder. No, Thomas wasn't a vengeful man: he was cold and calculating, like any diplomat. But he couldn't help the smile sneaking across his face when the last gate was opened.

There to greet him was the Warden, or Commander of the Lard Yao, Korn Piromya. Say what you want about the Thais, they were always respectful to officials. Mr. Piromya was always amicable with Adams; it was a peculiarity of the relationship American Missions had in foreign countries. While most people usually liked Americans, they didn't particularly like them being American.

Thomas walked with the Commander towards an interrogation room. His escort was most polite, and didn't make any mention of the newspapers. But when he opened the door to the interrogation room, it was with the flair of resenting a gift to a good friend.

Adams stepped through the threshold and surveyed the scene.

Cheryl was shocked at the manner in which she was treated. Cuffed, transported in the back of a police van, and removed to a holding cell, all in short order, and she was struggling to keep her panic in check.

Christ!! The Thai government dealt harshly with people convicted of drug smuggling. She might well find herself sentenanced to death!! Her eyes watered with unshed tears, as she thought of never going home. She mentally shook herslef, she needed to keep it together. They would contact the embassy, they would have to intervene. Thailand would not piss off the US by executing an American citizen, but imprisionment here was difficult to survive too. She recalled a case of two British women who served years here for drug smuggling, and political pressure had little to mitigate their sentance.

No, she couldn't allow herself to lose hope. Certainly not at this early date! She was innocent. Her embassy would sort it out! Then realisation struck. Thomas Adams!! Oh dear God, NO!! He was the US Consulate here in Thailand, and partly the reason she was here. Not that she'd interviewed him of course. She hadn't tried - she had her own agenda.

She had, only ten days ago, forwarded a report to her paper, alleging that Adams had an unhealthy interest in young boys. She had managed to find a couple of boys, in their mid teens who had said that Adams gave them some money. She had been highly selective about the parts of the interview that she included, allowing inuendo to fill in what was not said.

Alak and Talap Tukul were brothers, 13 and 15, whose mother worked as a cleaner in the embassy. They had seen Thomas shooting hoops one day, and he had given them a few lessons, with a promise to play them in a month. If they could beat him then, he would give them $50. He played them the first Sunday of each month, and had parted with $250 to date. The brothers, and had been thrilled with their winnings, and were effusive in thier praise for Thomas.

Of course, she had not reported it quite like that.

"Two young teenage brothers, from a disadvantaged background confirmed that diplomat Thomas Adams, US Consul stationed in Bangkok, had paid $250 to the desperate young boys to 'spend time in his company'. While neither would be drawn on the exact nature of thier relationship with Adams, this reporter personally observed their discomfort with the subject, and their impromptu termination of our interview.

When subsequently contacted, both appeared scared, and stated that Adams would not like them talking to the press."​

She had been so pleased with herself, sending through that report, knowing that no matter how untrue it was, it would utterly destroy his career.

She was pulled out of her daydream by the van pulling abruptly to a halt, and she was dragged out, and taken to the cell.

One of her jailors appeared.

"Missy, Embassy man come soon!"

And she was taken to an interview room, where she was seated, and her hands cuffed behind her back.

Please God let them send someone else! Anyone else!

The door opened, and her heart sank, it was him!

Thomas stood just beyond the door, a second longer than was necessary. It was her, wasn't it?

The last he'd seen of her was at least several years ago, and he remembered someone a lot wider around the waist, and certainly not as well dressed. She wasn't part of the "in" crowd, and back in Highschool days, that was a much more important thing. Now he was a professional and adult, the social cliques seemed silly.

Seeing someone you knew from Highschool and how they'd changed usually makes you self-conscious... if they've aged that much, so have you. But Cheryl was certainly a lot more attractive than he imagined; not someone he would picture picking fights through the papers.

Ah, the papers. It was only a week ago that he stood in the Ambassador's office, being called on the carpet for something he didn't do. Didn't even know about until then. He held the newspaper tightly in his fist, keeping his emotions in check. He was used to situations like this, being a diplomat. Diplomacy was like politics, except instead of between parties and candidates, it was between countries and if you screwed up, lots of people got killed.

Of course the Ambassador knew the implication wasn't true; if it were, there would be an administrative proceeding, not a newspaper article. But that didn't mean it didn't have consequences; and the Ambassador was more concerned about his friends in Chicago than what it would to to the Mission's work in the country.

"... and you'd better pray no Republican gets his hand on this by the election!" Telling warning, Adams was a registered Republican. Or was the Ambassador trying to say something? Polit- Diplomacy was all about who could throw the most dirt, and Adams hadn't gotten to his position by being bad at his job. No, people who were bad at their job got political appointments, like the Ambassador here. But Thomas kept his mouth shut.

Going to the prison, Thomas had concocted a plan to pressure her into retracting her articles -it would tarnish her reputation, but that was much better than tarnishing his reputation- before acquiescing to finding a way out for her. Not that he could see any, really: she'd been caught red-handed, and the Thais were very, very serious about drugs. After she'd retracted, maybe he could get her to plead guilty to avoid the death penalty, and then maybe, maybe the King would pardon her after a couple of decades. He genuinely would do his best for her, of course; but she had some groveling to do first.

Now that he was looking at her, however, his mind was slipping a little into new territory. Changed as she was, she still brought back Highschool memories, and some unfinished business. Maybe there were other things he could get out of this.

"Hello, Miss Cromwell," he said formally, "My name Thomas Adams. I am the legal Consul attached to the US Mission in Thailand. How are you? Have you been treated well?"

It was a routine question that wouldn't insult Commander Piromya any more than it would insult Thomas that the warden was standing over his shoulder for the interview.

There is a saying in Diplomatic circles, that you never negotiate without a plan. Catching a look at Cheryl's helpless and bedraggled, though still defiant, figure, he realized he had to come up with a new plan...

The sight of him instantly brought to mind a whole host of horrible memories. Highschool. Not her finest hour, metophorically speaking. She had been about 30 lbs heavier, jam jar glasses, spots, and she had been in love with him. Not that he noticed, of course.

The all star quarter-back, the school heart throb, and God did he know it!! The vacuous blonde cheerleaders had literally fallen over one another to impress him, to get him to notice them. He could, and, if rumour was to be believed, did, have his pick of them!

She had been teased and tormented throughout, ridiculed and humiliated by all. But Thomas Adams had been the worst. He had reputedly been responsible for tagging her Beryl, instead of Cheryl, and deciding that "Big Bery"l had a nice sense of allitoration. Chad Conners had also told her that Adams had the entire football team calling her Moby, as in Moby Dick, and that had stuck all the way through high school.

By the time she left, her initial love for him, had been well and truly changed to hatred!

The years had passed, and she had shed the excess pounds, had laser surgery on her eyes, and her skin had cleared up. Then, during a stint as foreign correspondent for her paper, she had discovered that he had gone rapidly up the ranks of the Diplomatic corps, and was stationed in the Consulate in Bangkok.

"Hello, Miss Cromwell, My name Thomas Adams. I am the legal Consul attached to the US Mission in Thailand. How are you? Have you been treated well?"

"Hhmm???" She was suddenly brought back to the present. She looked up. He didn't recognise her!! She was at once angered, and relieved. He certainly didn't remember their highschool days, and she was relieved that he was as yet unaware, or so it seemed, of the articles she had written, maligning his character.

"I am totally innocent!! I have no idea how those drugs got into my case!! I have been taken here, handcuffed, thrown into a holding cell, prevented from leaving the country......." she trailed off, as her voice went incrementally up in octaves, as she became more and more stressed out. "Get me out of her Mr. Adams, get me out NOW!!!"

"Now, now, let's not get hasty," Thomas said soothingly. It was understandable that she was agitated; even if she was guilty, no one liked going to jail. Thomas wasn't particularly happy about that, either: criminals gave his country a bad name, and made his work so much harder. True, he knew Cheryl from Highschool, but most criminals had Highschool acquaintances as well. "Getting worked up won't change anything. And, let's not forget, that agitation is a classic symptom of cocaine abuse."

He let that sink in while he took a seat in front of her and put a brown folder in front of him. It had grown quite a lot over the last couple of hours as he got information from different agencies. He was very interested that she had a CIA file. But that was not something to mention in a foreign prison.

"Now," he proceeded, opening the folder, though he had pretty much most of it committed to memory, "It says here you were apprehended at Suvarnabhumi Airport, by security while checking your bags into the safe area. That in itself is suspicious. Security officers found" and here he pretended to peer at the writing on a sheet of paper "200 grams of refined cocaine in two ziplock bags. That's worth quite a lot of money. Is this true?"

At least the first part of the plan still worked; get her to understand just how serious her plight was. Sure, she was probably scared; but there is a big difference between being scared of something, and understanding how much it will ruin your life.

the blood drained from Cheryl's face as she listened to Thomas speak. Oh, it was all very PC, delivered in one of those annoying tones she hated, that were designed to calm, and had the opposite effect on her.

The whole vibe was 'calm down, don't panic, but your fucked. Lets not make a scene about it though!!'

When he mentioned the quantity of cocaine in her bag, she slumped even lower in her seat. 200g. That was a lot.

"Shit. That's a lot! Last time I checked it was like $350 per gram for good quality stuff, so thats.........$70000.... if that stuff has yet to be cut.... it could be as much as quarter of a million." She looked up at him. "What?? I'm a journalist! I've covered drug stories! Of course I know that!!!"

She put her hands on her hips, angry,and yet kicking herself that she had mentioned being a journalist. He obviously didn't recognise her, and her name hadn't rung any bells, and it would go better for her if it stayed that way!!

She struggled to smile a little.

"I'm sorry, I know you are working hard to get me out of here! I am racking my brains, trying to think who might have had access to my suitcase, but I cant think of anyone!! I was only here for a little over a week, and I was working for most of that....."

She was under such stress, that she kept mentioning being a journalist!!! She needed to avoid that subject at all costs!!

"So, how long til you can get me out of here, and what can I do, to speed it up!"



"Look, for the record, I have no idea how that stuff got in my bag! I certainly didn;t put it there! Check, my finger prints are not on it, I guarantee it!!"

Thomas looked up at the warden, but he wasn't getting involved in the affair. She was just another annoying, probably idiot, tourist that thought she could get rich off his country. The diplomat turned back to Cheryl threw up his hands and leaned back in his chair.

"Look, I don't know how else to say this. You were caught in flagrante delicto. That's a fancy way of saying you were caught red handed, and committing a capital crime. There is no way you are going anywhere for a long time. This is Thailand. Thailand is a sovereign country, with it's own laws and justice system. You'll have to work with them. I'm not here to get you out; I'm here to protect the interests of the United States."

Before she could comment on that, he continued, "Also, there's the issue of presumed innocence. You see, you were caught, they were your bags, in your hand, going through the airport. That was the crime: bringing drugs to the airport, because you are responsible for what's in your bags. Where those drugs came from, is another matter. The police report and security cameras are more than enough to prove you're guilty, and I would strongly advise as an attorney, not to plead innocent, because there is absolutely no chance of you being acquitted. You saying that someone put the drugs in your bag means you're making an accusation of another crime, perpetrated in a different location. The system is going to presume this alleged man's innocence until you have proof that someone put those drugs in your bag. Which you don't have, otherwise I wouldn't be here."

Sometimes spelling things out helped get things through people's heads. Other times they were crackheads, and didn't understand a thing. Thomas sincerely hoped that Cheryl hadn't turned to drugs, and that she really was innocent; it wouldn't be as fun messing with a druggie. Although it did beg the question of who would go through all the trouble and expense of framing her like that. Thomas couldn't help grinning inside.

"You're just going to have to face facts: You're going to be here for a very, very long time."

There was no way that Thomas was going to bring up her recent stint in the newspapers; that would make him look unprofessional. He was sure that the session was being recorded, even if that was illegal, but when has the Secret Service of any country ever obeyed the law? No, calm and professional; if she cracked up, that was her problem. There'd be plenty of time to bring that up later.

Although... he was remembering an old statute from the Lübeck Confrence on international relations that might just be the thing he needed...

Her heart sank. His every word dimmed the hope that was flickering inside of her. What he was telling her was that she would have to admit to something she hadn't done, to plead guilty, and spend years here, in a Thai prison!

She almost crumbled at the thought! It would be horrific! Her career, everything she had worked for all ruined, stripped away, taken from her!!! God!! What was she thinking??! The loss of her career, her credibility was the very least of her problems!! She was losing her liberty! She might even lose her life - the prisons here were not known for their comfortable living conditions!!

Panic began to bloom, and she felt the tears well in her eyes, and spill over.

"I can't go to prison here, I can't!! I was in jail once in the US, well, twice really - the first time was simply doing an expose on the poor prison conditions - that was fine because I knew I could leave whenever I wanted. The second time was different. It was...... well that was awful. I had written an article about collusion between some high ranking staff in Homeland Security, and Columbian Drug trafficers... there was some human trafficing involved as well... it was a great article..... sales soared.... anyway, the powers that be got a court order demanding I reveal my source, I refused... and I was jailed for contempt of court.

It was dreadful. I know those Homeland Security guys pulled some strings, because I wasn't in some open prison for white collar offenders, I was stuck in a real prison, with serious criminals, dangerous people, forced to share a cell with ..... well she purported to be a woman, but trust me, there was nothing remotely feminine about her. I was terrified she was going to press her unwanted attentions on me.,.... and Oh! I cant face that again! I cant!!!!"


She began to cry hard, her body racked with sobs, her cheeks soaked.

"Please, Mr Adams" she lowered her voice, and whispered "Thomas, you know me! It's me, Moby! From High School??? Big Beryl, remember??" She sucked in a deep breath. "Is there anything you can do, anything at all?? Please??!"

Just when Thomas was starting to feel satisfied that her situation was finally sinking in, his mouth actually fell open in surprise. Not content with being stuck, she was digging herself in deeper. This was going to have to stop.

Information is a valuable resource, something you hand out sparingly and only to get something more valuable. It is an essential part of the tradecraft of Diplomacy. Here she was confessing to have been imprisoned twice before; the prosecution would certainly love to hear that! Not to mention the stony-faced warden was standing right there! Sure, there was no Miranda warning in Thailand, but the rule still applied: anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law.

He could only hope the Piromya hadn't caught her last whisper, otherwise it would be virtually impossible to do anything for her. It would be a conflict of interest. Although, it was rather nice to hear her begging. He resolved to make her do more of that.

"Miss Cromwell," he interposed, his voice becoming stern, "The United States government cannot, and will not, do anything to interfere with the sovereign proceedings of the Thai Justice System and of the courts. My job is to ensure that your rights under the Constitution are protected, and you receive a fair trial under current International Law. Clearly, this is the case, and while my office will continue to monitor the situation, my job here is done.

"However," he said, leaning forward and dropping his voice, "There are certain legal avenues that I could explore for you," here he turned over a page in the folder, allowing a newspaper clipping to be visible for a second before he flipped another page covering it up, "which you understand would be done as a personal favor, since I have not obligation to do anything more on your behalf. I want to make that perfectly clear: it's a favor, subject to my wanting to help you. Which means if you do anything, or have done anything I don't particularly like, my intervention is over, and you're right back here facing capital charges. Do I make myself clear?"

Thomas hadn't gotten it clearly worked out in his head how exactly he was going to accomplish that, but by the attention he was sensing in the Commander's pose, he was guessing the Thai official was very curious as to what Thomas was going to pull out of his sleeve.

Cheryl was in danger of her panic taking over!! She was fighting to keep control of herself, and, out of everything he said, only one thing hit home. He could do something!

"There are certain legal avenues that I could explore for you,which you understand would be done as a personal favor, since I have not obligation to do anything more on your behalf."

Hope leapt in her chest, and then, just as quickly, it sank. She saw the clipping! Shit! He knew who she was! Exactly who she was!!

"I would be very grateful, VERY grateful if you could see your way to helping me. Sometimes, things come across very badly in the media, and of course, those things must be rectified. Absolutely!

"I want to make that perfectly clear: it's a favor, subject to my wanting to help you. Which means if you do anything, or have done anything I don't particularly like, my intervention is over, and you're right back here facing capital charges. Do I make myself clear?"

"Absolutely!! I understand! I swear you will not regret helping me!"

She was about to say, that a man in his position would benefit greatly from a friend in the media, someone to tout his virtues, his capabilities as a diplomat, but her eyes shifted to the guard, and she thought it better to be a little less obvious.

Lowering her voice she added in a whisper.

"You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours!! Thank you! You wont regret it, I swear!"

When Cheryl mentioned the media, the Thai official's tension relaxed perceptibly to Thomas; clearly he'd divined the American's end-game. But like all good capitalists, Thomas was getting greedy, and wanted to see how far he could go. Inwardly, his hands were rubbing with anticipatory glee, though he maintained his outwardly impassive, professional face.

"You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours!! Thank you! You wont regret it, I swear!"

Why did journalists always make things sound sinister? He much preferred the businessman's handshake; somehow it seemed more open and egalitarian. But, then, he had weird ideas. Besides, he had much more than back-scratching in his mind.

"Very well, then," Thomas stood, "You do have to realize this might be a very lengthy process, and you'll probably be stuck here for a while. Bureaucracy is like that. Besides, Thailand has a particular loathing for drug-dealers." He spoke as if she were convicted already. In a way, she was; going to trial under those circumstances was merely a formality. In that sense, he had a lucky break, because he didn't need to exaggerate at all just how much trouble she was in.

Maybe once the paperwork was sorted out, and she was in a position that he liked, he'd look into the whole planting of the drugs bit. If it didn't touch too close to home.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, to report on progress. But don't get your hopes up. The prison isn't all that uncomfortable, anyway; you should see how the rest of the people live here. In the meantime... don't go anywhere." With a final grin, he stalked out of interrogation room.

He assumed she would be taken back to a common area, since Lard Yao didn't have individual cells for people. But it wasn't something particularly important to him; he had to clear his schedule to leave time for a long day of meetings and filling out papers. Not to mention calling in favours. That little girl had better be grateful, he mused, considering how much it was going to cost him to get her out.


Considering he'd been called to the prison in the early morning, it was quite a long time later when he was ushered into the same interrogation room a little after sunset. Or maybe it was a different room; they all looked the same, anyway. Thomas was quite tired. It wasn't that he didn't regularly pull all-day stints like this, particularly around the negotiation for the extradition of the arms dealer, for example; but this was particularly taxing because no one else was interested. 200g of cocaine, while enough to get you sentenced at least to life imprisonment, wasn't enough to make an appointment with the Minister of Justice. It was no small amount of personal triumph that he'd managed it all in such a short time. But who could he tell?

The warden again also went with Thomas, and there was a third man as well. The two men wearing suits sat in the table across from Cheryl, while the uniformed warden, once again took up a position next to the door.

"Hello again, Miss Cromwell," Thomas began, hoping she'd take the cue from his formal tone and address. "I'd like you to meet Thanom Chulanont, prosecutor of His Majesty's Ministry of Justice, and who is in charge of your case."

Chulamont regarded her with a cold eye, and was clearly annoyed about something. He dispensed with the pleasantries and spoke clearly and precisely, although his toned conveyed just how completely displeased he was with the situation. "I have been informed that you have requested to be attached to the Consular services of your country, and in accordance with article 15 of the Accords of the Lübeck Conference would allow you to be detained in the diplomatic mission of your country, pending trial for the crimes you have committed." He didn't bother with the "allegedly" part.

"Therefore," and here his voice became particularly icy, "the Minster has agreed to transfer your place of detention to the residence of the US Consul. The Minster has also agreed in accordance also with article 15 that your trial will be suspended while you remain in the service of the Consul. Upon termination of your contract, you will be remanded forthwith to this facility where you will stand trial for your pending charges. The initial contract which I have here is for one year, subject to being extended at the discretion of the Consul.

"You are to understand that this means you will be under house arrest, and should you leave the domicile indicated in this document, or attempt to flee the country; it will constitute the additional crime of flight to avoid justice, and you shall be treated as an escaped convict." His voice had an animated quality, as if he only hoped she'd try to make an escape attempt so he could be sure she spent the rest of her days rotting in the worst jail he could find. Not only did he particularly detest people who broke the law, it only made it worse that they had clever lawyers who found loopholes for them. He slid -shoved- a folder with a stack of papers in it and a pen. "You will sign where it says your name." The prosecutor did not look at Thomas, and the diplomat just sat looking uninterested at the proceedings.

When Thomas left the prison, Cheryl was taken back to the common area, where she was horrified by the common criminals, undesirables, whores and low lives she was incarcerated with. There was no way she would survive here! NONE!!

She avoided, in so far as was possible, any and all contact with the other inmates, and chewed her lip hoping that Thomas could get her out, quick!!!

She did something she hadn't done in years - she prayed, promising anything and everything if God, fate, Buddah, whoever, would get her the hell out of there!!

The day dragged. Every minute felt like an hour, and she spent most of the time crying and feeling sorry for herself.

Finally, as she resigned herself to the fact that she would be there overnight, she was summoned to the interview room. She sat down, her hands uncuffed , and she waited, until Thomas, the Prison Guard and another man entered, and with the exception of the prison guard, the other men sat opposite her.

The man, to whom she was introduced, and whose name she could not recall, was hostile, but he said the words she needed to hear.

She was to be released into the consolute. Yes, she'd be under their guard, but it wasn't here!!

She signed the paper and stood, smiling at Thomas, silently thanking him.

"Thank you, I understand!" she said, at all the appropriate moments, thinking only of getting out.

Finally, when they were done, she stood, and prepared to leave, feeling light-hearted for the first time in hours!!

Thomas was quite pleased with the impression she was getting of the prison, as she seemed very eager to leave. All the better.

When the prosecutor got Cheryl's signature, he nodded curtly at her, and shook Thomas' hand before leave.

"Right, then," Thomas declared. "Let's have you trough the releasing office, and we can take you home." Tired as he was, he still smiled. The warden didn't seem concerned one way or the other; he was doing his job. Thomas indicated for Cheryl to leave the room and walk with him.

In the corridor, he leaned in a little closer to her, and dropped his voice a bit. He wanted to discuss other things later in private, but first leave her with the impression of the importance of this matter, before she left jail. "I hope you understand how much work I went through to get you out. Before she could answer, a female officer whisked her off to another room to get her possessions back -minus the 200g of white powder, of course. Thomas stayed amicably conversing with the warden, and in fact, continued to talk with him while the little party went through the maze of gates and out into the hot Bangkok night.

Thomas put his ward into his car, noticing a police escort to ensure that he went straight home, and bid his farewells. Sitting in the car and turning on the engine, he let off his formal diplomatic persona, loosening his tie a bit.

"Well, then Beryl... you didn't think I would forget my good ol' friend Moby, would you?" He grinned at her. "Especially when your name started popping up in the paper. I thought you had a lot more potential than picking petty fights in the tabloids. How long has it been?"

Speeding through the night and mess of cars, he turned to Cheryl quite seriously. "It looks like we've got a lot of catching up to do, and you have a lot to make up for." He grinned, thinking about that phrase, "out of the frying pan..."

Cheryl was relieved when the documents were signed, and the Government official was tucking them back into his briefcase, and it seemed as though the formalities were all but over. She was getting the hell out of there!!

They had left the interview room, and were in the hallway when Thomas leaned in and whispered.

"I hope you understand how much work I went through to get you out"
God, she did. She really, really did!! It seemed he wasn't such an asshole afterall!!! She expected that he would have a helicopter organised to take her from the roof of the embassy, and take her out of the country so she could fly home to the states. She was thinking that she could probably swing a few interviews on the circuit out of this. Jay Leno, The Today Show, maybe Oprah.

Lost in her own thoughts, she was directed to another area, where a female guard gave her back her own clothing. Putting on her own designer dress.

God! It felt good! To wear normal clothing, to BE normal! She all but skipped out of there, dragging her luggage behind her, a spring in her step that she hadn't felt in years. To have her liberty restored was sweet indeed.

She was grinning from ear to ear when she slammed the car door. It faltered somewhat at his words.

"Well, then Beryl... you didn't think I would forget my good ol' friend Moby, would you?"

She still hated that name, even-though she was in a very different place now, she was a very different person.

"Especially when your name started popping up in the paper. I thought you had a lot more potential than picking petty fights in the tabloids. How long has it been?"

Oooh, the paper thingy. That wasn't good!

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you remember me, but we're adults now, and I HATE those names!! You made my life utterly miserable in high-school, still, seeing as you got me out of prison, I guess I can call it quits!! As for the tabloids, yeah, I worked for some of the more upmarket papers, but the pay freelancing for the tabloids is much, much better, and without a lot of the creative restraints! Besides, someone has to expose the cheating spouses, the fat cats abusing their public positions, getting rich off of corruption."

She realised she was saying the wrong thing! She looked at him, and rapidly began to back pedal. "I mean Senators shagging their secretaries, taking bribes, that kind of stuff needs to be exposed! But.... but sometimes.... it can be easy to get carried away!!!"

"Yep," Thomas agreed, "corruption sucks until it's your ass in jail and it's you who needs to get out." He glanced over at her. If she was attractive in prison, she was a lot more attractive with the new dress, and the streetlights flitting over her hair.

When she started talking about Highschool, he reminded himself to keep his composure. Clearly she had only one side of the events, and he meant to educate her. Slowly. Tortuously.

"Anyway," he continued, "we're going to have plenty of time to reminisce; most of my work I can do at home, and when you get there -well, maybe when there's sunlight and you can appreciate it fully- I'm sure you'll like it."

He couldn't wait to get home and pour himself a nice cold drink and maybe lay out in the patio for a bit. The weather was warm, a little too warm, actually; and it would be nice to get some rest. Though he knew that Cheryl would be more than a handful, and he was rather welcoming that.

Cheryl was on a high! It was such a relief to be out of that Hell hole! Of course, she would write an expose on the horrific conditions in Thai prisons!! her mind was whirrling.

"So, what's the plan? Back to the embassy,and sneak me out by helicoptor? I guess it might be better to wait for nightfall!" She mused over that for a bit, then turned to him again.

"Listen, Thomas, I guess I want to say that I might have misjudged you.... in the past and all, but I am very grateful for all you have done for me! I'm sure you had to pull a few strings to get me out. Like, I know I'm not a regular prisioner, me being a journalist and all that, but still, you went out of your way, getting me out of there, long before any of my high powered contacts might come to my aid. Its tough when you're freelance. There's no corporate lawyer in the wings ready to get you out!!"

She looked out the window for a moment, then continued.

"As I said, I do appreciate all you've done, and I shall make sure that you name is honourably mentioned in my expose article on the Thai legal system!"

Thomas couldn't help but laugh out loud. It wasn't a cruel or demeaning laugh, just amusement at seeing something unexpected.

"You know," he said, as he turned the car off the motorway and onto a small country road. The police escort kept stoically behind. "For a journalist, you aren't all that observant. I think the prosecutor was pretty explicit about you being under house arrest back there, and I'm pretty sure the Thai government would be more than pissed if a capital prisoner were to be smuggled out of the country. No, Cheryl, I might look up unknown or unused legal clauses, but I don't break the law. I'm sure my boss -which, by the way, is the American people- would be most unhappy if I started aiding and abetting criminals."

By then, they'd driven around and back to the beach, several miles from the centre of Bangkok, though the glow of the streetlights and skyscrapers was still in the sun. The car stopped in a little parking space at the edge of the water, and beyond was a wooden bridge that lead to a small cabin built actually over the ocean. Off to one side, there was a completely deserted beach, and to the other the jungle came down to the water. Crickets were already singing in the night, though the breeze had fallen enough to allow the gentle lap of small waves.

The following police car stopped a few yards back, and two officers got out, but did not approach the diplomat's vehicle. Thomas turned to Cheryl, and put on his serious face.

"I'm going to make this as clear as possible so there's no misunderstanding. You are my prisoner. Really. You'll still charged with narcotics possession and trafficking, charges which are still pending trial. So that you don't have to spend time in jail, I've arranged for you to be transfered here, to my house, in my custody. That means you are my responsibility and may not leave that house," he pointed over the water "for any reason whatsoever, or you will be taken back to Lard Yao just as you were before. There is no going back to the States, and if you write an exposé on the Thai legal system, it will be approved by the prosecutor first, like any and all of your correspondence. My phone and internet connections are being monitored so you don't do anything illegal or plan any sort of escape.

"This arrangement last only one year, and I may terminate it whenever I want, which means you go straight back to jail.

"Now, if you have any high-powered contacts, I doubt it would have been necessary for me to intervene. But, you're welcome to contact them.

"In the meantime, you are to stay here, under my supervision, and you will do exactly as I say. Otherwise, those police officers back there will be more than happy to take you back to jail."

"There is no going back to the States, and if you write an exposé on the Thai legal system, it will be approved by the prosecutor first, like any and all of your correspondence. My phone and internet connections are being monitored so you don't do anything illegal or plan any sort of escape."

Jesus!! She had just assumed that he would be her ticket out of this god forsaken country!!! She was visualising the US embassy, at the fall of Saigon - imagining something similar for herself, with less chaos, of course, but essentially, her being whisked off, back to the good old US of A!!!

Thomas' plan simply traded one prison for another!! Although she had to admit that his house, no matter how basic, and she didn't imagine it would be at all basic, would be infinitely preferable to the dreadful prison she had just left.

She opened her mouth to object, to plead, but her complaints died on her lips. She was in a catch 22, and there was now way out!! THIS was the best of her options, and she would do well to grab it with both hands, and forget about her silly little notion of being whisked away like the president on Airforce One!!

"This arrangement last only one year, and I may terminate it whenever I want, which means you go straight back to jail."

she was already shaking her head in denial.

"No, no!! You'll have no reason to do that, I promise!!"

"In the meantime, you are to stay here, under my supervision, and you will do exactly as I say. Otherwise, those police officers back there will be more than happy to take you back to jail."

"Yes Sir!! I understand Sir!!"

She replied in a teasing, mock military way, eager to lighten the mood. She was out of that hell hole, now was a time of celebration!!!