city. The Capri rattled over the crossing and down a reddish dirt road lined with trees.
'The prison's over there,' said Bird, nodding to their left.
Hutch peered through the window. Through the trees, less than a hundred yards away, was a white-painted wall, and in the distance he could make out an observation turret, four-sided with large windows, topped by a radio mast. There were piles of dirt and stones at the edge of the road as if there was construction work in progress, but there were no labourers around. A driveway led from the dirt road to the main entrance of the prison, marked by a red, gold and blue insignia and four flags atop white poles. Inscribed in gold on a block of granite, underneath some Thai script, was written, in English, 'Klong Prem Central Prison'. Bird pulled hard on the steering wheel and headed towards the prison.
'Whoa!' shouted Hutch. 'What the hell are you doing?'
'It's okay, it's okay,' said Bird. 'Many visitors go to the prison.'
Hutch sank down into his seat. Ahead of them was a guardhouse, but its red and white barrier was raised and the brown-uniformed guard didn't even give them a second look. To the left of the driveway was a white structure that looked like an outside lavatory. Written on the side in large blue letters was 'ATM'.
'Is that a bank machine?' Hutch asked.
Bird nodded. 'Yes, so that visitors can send in money.'
Hutch's jaw dropped. This appeared to be like no other prison he'd ever seen, and he'd been in half a dozen in England. Behind the ATM stood a single-storey modern building with huge glass windows that revealed displays of gleaming furniture. The driveway curved either side of a well-tended circular garden, in the centre of which fluttered a red, white and blue Thai flag from a towering flagpole. There was a car park to the left and Bird brought the Capri to a halt next to a brand new minibus.
Hutch climbed out and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. 'That looks like a furniture shop,' he said, nodding at the building.
'It is,' said Bird, locking the car doors. 'They make it in the prison factory.'
Hutch went over to the showroom and peered in through 68 STEPHEN LEATHER the window. There were tables, chairs and cabinets, all of a quality he'd expect to see in a Hong Kong department store. A middle-aged woman appeared out of the shadows inside the store, smiling broadly in anticipation of a potential sale. 'Does everyone work in the prison?' he asked Bird.
Bird shrugged his massive shoulders. 'I think so, but . . .'
'You don't know for sure.'
Bird avoided Hutch's look. Hutch shook his head and went after Bird, who was walking towards the main prison entrance. Two guards were lounging either side of an archway wide enough to admit a double-decker bus. They watched Bird and Hutch uninterestedly, and didn't appear to be carrying weapons. Hutch had the feeling that he could walk straight into the prison, right up to the huge white-painted metal gates that led into the secure area, but he stayed where he was and waited for Bird to join him.
'Visitors go there,' said Bird, pointing ahead. It was the first factual information that he'd supplied, and Hutch pointedly ignored him. This wasn't a briefing, it was a farce.
Hutch looked up at the observation tower. From a distance it had appeared to be glass-sided, but now that he was closer he could see that the windows were also barred, though they were open in places to allow in fresh air. He shielded his eyes with his hands but couldn't see anyone inside. They walked away from the archway, along a dirt road that followed the perimeter wall, though it was separated from it by a line of trees, a strip of ground-hugging < vegetation and an area of bare earth.
On the right-hand side of the road a group of young men in Tshirts, jeans and baseball caps were sitting astride motorcycles, talking and smoking cigarettes. They paid Hutch and Bird as little attention as the guards had. Beyond them was a line of
'The prison's over there,' said Bird, nodding to their left.
Hutch peered through the window. Through the trees, less than a hundred yards away, was a white-painted wall, and in the distance he could make out an observation turret, four-sided with large windows, topped by a radio mast. There were piles of dirt and stones at the edge of the road as if there was construction work in progress, but there were no labourers around. A driveway led from the dirt road to the main entrance of the prison, marked by a red, gold and blue insignia and four flags atop white poles. Inscribed in gold on a block of granite, underneath some Thai script, was written, in English, 'Klong Prem Central Prison'. Bird pulled hard on the steering wheel and headed towards the prison.
'Whoa!' shouted Hutch. 'What the hell are you doing?'
'It's okay, it's okay,' said Bird. 'Many visitors go to the prison.'
Hutch sank down into his seat. Ahead of them was a guardhouse, but its red and white barrier was raised and the brown-uniformed guard didn't even give them a second look. To the left of the driveway was a white structure that looked like an outside lavatory. Written on the side in large blue letters was 'ATM'.
'Is that a bank machine?' Hutch asked.
Bird nodded. 'Yes, so that visitors can send in money.'
Hutch's jaw dropped. This appeared to be like no other prison he'd ever seen, and he'd been in half a dozen in England. Behind the ATM stood a single-storey modern building with huge glass windows that revealed displays of gleaming furniture. The driveway curved either side of a well-tended circular garden, in the centre of which fluttered a red, white and blue Thai flag from a towering flagpole. There was a car park to the left and Bird brought the Capri to a halt next to a brand new minibus.
Hutch climbed out and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. 'That looks like a furniture shop,' he said, nodding at the building.
'It is,' said Bird, locking the car doors. 'They make it in the prison factory.'
Hutch went over to the showroom and peered in through 68 STEPHEN LEATHER the window. There were tables, chairs and cabinets, all of a quality he'd expect to see in a Hong Kong department store. A middle-aged woman appeared out of the shadows inside the store, smiling broadly in anticipation of a potential sale. 'Does everyone work in the prison?' he asked Bird.
Bird shrugged his massive shoulders. 'I think so, but . . .'
'You don't know for sure.'
Bird avoided Hutch's look. Hutch shook his head and went after Bird, who was walking towards the main prison entrance. Two guards were lounging either side of an archway wide enough to admit a double-decker bus. They watched Bird and Hutch uninterestedly, and didn't appear to be carrying weapons. Hutch had the feeling that he could walk straight into the prison, right up to the huge white-painted metal gates that led into the secure area, but he stayed where he was and waited for Bird to join him.
'Visitors go there,' said Bird, pointing ahead. It was the first factual information that he'd supplied, and Hutch pointedly ignored him. This wasn't a briefing, it was a farce.
Hutch looked up at the observation tower. From a distance it had appeared to be glass-sided, but now that he was closer he could see that the windows were also barred, though they were open in places to allow in fresh air. He shielded his eyes with his hands but couldn't see anyone inside. They walked away from the archway, along a dirt road that followed the perimeter wall, though it was separated from it by a line of trees, a strip of ground-hugging < vegetation and an area of bare earth.
On the right-hand side of the road a group of young men in Tshirts, jeans and baseball caps were sitting astride motorcycles, talking and smoking cigarettes. They paid Hutch and Bird as little attention as the guards had. Beyond them was a line of
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