Why hadn't Flockhart given me a code intro to use? Because Salamander was so ultra-clandestine that the normal routines didn't apply? But that was plain bloody dangerous.

The man started whistling tunelessly as he went through the top drawer and fished out a manila envelope and came back and dropped it onto the counter. 'Jones, David.'

'Thank you.'

'When were you out here last?'

'Couple of years ago.'

'Things have changed for the worse since the UN cleared out, if that sounds possible, but the basics are still there. Don't drink the water or go with the girls or eat anything raw, and if you need medical attention keep clear of the hospitals, they still haven't heard of sterilization and if you ever needed an operation you'd have to take along a can of diesel fuel to run the generator for the lights.' The telephone began ringing again, and again he ignored it. 'We've still got one doctor for twenty-seven thousand people, so the thing is to play it safe. And watch out for trip mines, the Khmer Rouge are still blowing up whoever they can find — military, civilians, women and children, you name it, they'll kill it.' He gave a sudden bright smile. 'Enjoy your stay in exotic, sunny Cambodia.'

I stowed the manila envelope into my flight bag and walked down the steps into the street.

The black cloud cover was still spread across the sea to the west, but above the mountains there were starfields clinging to the night sky. The air was pale gunmetal blue as the lingering heat of the day pressed down across the boulevards, and I felt the tension here in Phnom Penh, dangerous and oppressive, as I splashed through the puddles to the Peugeot 604 that Flockhart had left for me to pick up at the airport. I pulled a door open and threw the flight bag in.