Martiya was silent for a minute. She looked around the room. I havent seen
Uncle Otto since I was nine years old, she said. He knew how to ride a horse.
He was a wonderful horseman. He promised hed buy me a horse when I was twelve.
I guess he just did.
Martiya sat quietly for a long while. She picked idly at the string tied
around her right wrist. Then she spoke. The vast bulk of the moneynot much by
occidental standards, a small fortune in a Thai prisonwas to be given to a
charity which aided the hill tribes, the rest deposited in her prison bank
account. Then, with all the authority of a corporate executive late for a tee
time, rather than a prisoner condemned to life, Martiya rose from her seat and
extended her hand. The appointment was over.
Josh had one last thought. Would you like me to call your lawyer? he asked.
Money can change a lot of things here. Maybe he can . . .
Martiya smiled at Josh. I cant leave now. Im only beginning to understand
how it really works around here. And where would I go?
She thanked Josh for his time and walked back through the metal door into the
dark prison hallway.
A Man Called Intrepid author dies aged 89(Dec 03 2013) William Stevenson, a journalist and author who drew on his close ties with intelligence sources to write two best-selling books in the 1970s, A Man Called...