MICHELLE RAWLINSON AND ETIENNE GERVAIS, AUSTRALIAN CONSULATE, VIENTIANE, LAOS, 10:40pm<br/><br/>I was furious with the Laotian ministry, not just because like cowards they had run away but while doing so had wasted two hours of my valuable time hiding behind that ridiculous smiling man. Asian politeness was no strange animal to me; I'd encountered both its good and bad sides before. The smiling, bowing "Yes, no problem" from the local suppliers meant "Yes, this is a problem, we will have trouble getting that office furniture here in such a short time". I had come to understand the way things were done in south-east Asia by now but deliberately covering up like that was beyond any excuse. Inside I fumed. Outwardly I tried to keep calm.<br/><br/>Monsieur Gervais and I left the Laotian ministry at ten. I glanced at my watch.<br/><br/><strong>"I need to send a telex to Saigon. Monsieur, would you be so kind? Might I borrow that photograph of yours one more time?"</strong><br/><br/>We walked the couple of hundred yards through the crowds which evening and early night had done little to lessen. If anything there seemed to be even more of an edge to the mood of the city now. The consulate building in Laos was smaller and less well guarded than the embassy in Saigon. No soldiers outside on guard, only an official on the gate who recognized me and asked my companion to sign in the book and for me to countersign him in. If things got difficult here in Vientiane there was little to protect the diplomatic staff. The sooner I was out of here the better though I planned to sit tight until my flight tomorrow, Sir Henry would need me to continue reporting back.<br/><br/>The consul's office was closed and dark. It was amazing that even in these circumstances routine went on as usual with the senior staff going back to their hotel rooms. In the lobby just a couple of security staff sat at the main desk and in an inner office a couple of clerical staff were reading magazines, drinking coffee and watching the phones. I nodded a silent greeting to them and went through to the consul's secretaries office. The row of amber lights atop the telex machine winked at me as I went around the desk and switched the reading lamp on.<br/><br/>Using the typewriter I wrote up a brief summary report of my meeting with Gervais and the Laotians, including all the information the Canadian had given me. Part way through there was a knock on the door and a young man poked his head round.<br/><br/><strong><em>"Miss Rawlinson? The consul asked me to give you this. Telex direct from Sydney. Came in about an hour ago."</em></strong><br/><br/>I took the flimsy and read it quickly.<em>My God.</em>I silently passed it to Gervais and continued typing, ripping the sheet from the roller and moving to the tele-fax machine. The thing had one of the new picture scanners and I loaded the typed report in then slid the photograph of the vehicle and the six-limbed figures into the drum and typed in the Saigon number. I paused, then on a sudden urge I typed in a second number I had been given two years before during the 'flap' in Manila. It was a number to an office in London, England and would deposit the telex and image to the desk of the assistant director of MI5, the British secret service. I was about to send the report when Gervais leaned across and wrote two more numbers on a memo pad beside me. I recognised the international dial codes for Canada and France. Nodding silently to him I put those numbers into the machine as well. I hit the 'send' button and the image scanning drum began to whirr.<br/><br/>I looked up at Gervais.<strong>"World war Three could be going to start in under fourteen hours. I am not going back to my hotel. I'll send a clerk over to get my things. I plan to try and get a couple of hours nap here and stay around in case the phones ring. The couch in the outer office looks quite comfortable and there's a better one in the consul's reception room if you want to stay. The clerks can get you a coffee if you prefer to keep awake. I'm afraid though if things get awkward the security here is not that good. I know there is a limousine and a Land-Rover in the motor pool out the back so if you wanted to get anywhere I'm sure I can beg the keys for you, but I'm staying put."</strong><br/><br/>I knew there was a gun cabinet in the office next door as well. If things got hairy here I might even need to scrounge the keys for that. I'd done some hours on the shooting range in Manila and had also done some more unofficial practice at the Australian compound in Saigon a couple of months ago so if the crowds got too aggressive I knew I could defend myself.<br/><br/>I shook my head.<em>Don't be daft. The army will be here in the morning with my flight back to Saigon.</em><br/><br/>When I had finished sending my report I used the machine a second time to run an internal scan of the photograph. I then paper clipped this to my original report, sealed it into a diplomatic pouch and picked up the phone. A clerk in the typing pool answered.<br/><br/><strong>"I need to send a bag internally and urgently to the Consul. He'll be at his hotel at this time of night. Please arrange to have someone carry it over right away. And don't leave it for the morning, wake the consul up if he's asleep. This is urgent."</strong>I replaced the receiver and a few minutes later the same young man who had brought me the telex was back at the door. I confirmed with him the official pouch was correctly sealed and he went out.<br/><br/><strong>"Let's see if the Consul here, George Mallandek, has any ideas."</strong><br/><br/>Somehow, I doubted it.