NICK WAS a heartbroken man. He had no girlfriend, and now it looked like he had lost his best friend. He jumped on the first bus, unaware of where it was heading.

The bus had a sign on the front saying Surat Thani. So presumably, it was going to a place of that name?

Nick had never heard of it. So what? He was on board, dozing, thinking. A long-haired New Zealander leant over the seat in front of Nick.

'Hello mate, you going to Samui?'

'To be honest, I do not know where I am heading. And I donʼt care. Also, I am not keen on talking to anyone, particularly an Aussie.'

The Kiwi decided not to correct the big man or push the conversation further.

When the bus stopped at the depot in Surat Thani, the Kiwi tried his luck again.

'You feeling better now? Come on, mate, come with me; we can get the ferry to Koh Samui. Koh means island. Then we can let our hair down.'

'Okay, pal, I'm with you. I'm Nick, and I've cheered up at least a bit.'

They reached the island, so hot you could melt marble. The only respite was if you submerged yourself in the clear blue water. That could wait. The beaches were trimmed with tall, shady palm trees. All are hanging toward the sea, looking like they are about to dive in. Nick followed Kiwi to a resort with reasonable-looking bungalows. Some were available. Nick was already feeling better. Then he saw Myrtle. He was now feeling much better!

The girl was sitting on the grass in front of the seawall and daydreaming, wearing a knee-length skirt. Folded neatly under her shapely legs, a pink bikini top with a Panama hat edged with the same material. She opened her eyes with a start; she flashed a shy smile in Nick's direction.

Myrtle had been born in a village outside Dublin. She lived with her father, mother, and little brother. They shared a farmhouse in the top field where her parents worked. She was studious, with a flair for design. She attended the local Catholic Church where she had been Christened. Everyone who knew her thought she would get married there, too, as did most of the village girls. Those ideas all changed one day when she was reading a glamour magazine. The waif-like Jamaican model was posing next to a coconut tree on Koh Samui. She decided she wanted to do the same. Her father went crazy. He had only been as far as Dublin. That was to watch rugby and horse racing, as far as his travels got him and he wanted to go. Myrtle's mother was secretly jealous, and she had never breathed a word of her lust to spread her wings. The next day the buxom Myrtle left home. Her father refused to say goodbye, and her mother cried.

No sign of Nick two full days after Kev returned. He must have attempted shopping again, as he only had one set of clothes. Funny, but that was all Skylab worried about. Nick was a big boy now. He must be okay. The trio was twitching. Could anything nasty have befallen him? No calls, no postcards - nothing.

The Hua Hin sun had dipped below the tree line, but it looked like a small solar flare was moving across the road! Could that be a beardless Nick wearing colourful beachwear? A matching set, shorts and shirt depicting surf and coconut trees.

'Please donʼt tell me he has found magic mushrooms?' said Dam.

'He must have met a girl.' Skylab said. 'For sure.'

'Too much sun and too many beers,' said Kev.

As Nick breezed into the office, flashing his teeth with a grin Thais would be proud of. No beard covering his chin made his whole appearance change for the better. Instead, he looked cleaner and slimmer.

'What have you been up to?' The three said in unison as they all smiled in welcome.

'I was not in a happy mood when I left Bangkok. I got the first bus that came. I ended up in Koh Samui. Has anyone ever been there?'

No one had.

'Fantastic place, fantastic people, hippy-ish, but fun.'

'And?'

'Nothing much, but a young lady took me under her wing. She decided I would look younger without a beard and bought me these clothes. She has great taste, as you can see.'

'And? Come on.'

'And nothing. At least, nothing Iʼm telling you lot about,' Nick looked sheepish. The grin got wider.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Now Nick was back safe and sound. Kev could concentrate on what he should be thinking about. What happened on the visit to Kaeng Krachan?

'Dam, have you got a minute? What do you know about Pi Meow? I know there is something, and you donʼt want to tell me. But believe me, I need to know.'

'I donʼt want to talk about him if you donʼt mind. Let's say he was the enemy of my uncle. It's about politics and money, and leave it at that.'

'Okay, but I may... no, forget that I donʼt like him, that's all.'

Dam was now thinking about what the family had told him years ago and dark thoughts about his uncle's enemy.

'I need to go to the dam with Pi Meow, but I need an excuse or a reason. Any ideas?' Kev said. He could not just ask Pi Meow to take him.

Dam scratched his chin, thinking about a conversation he had had with his cousin two days ago.

'Have you met Mad Mike yet? He is buying a share in that Aussie bar. You know, the one with loads of partners?'

The Headrock Bar was becoming famous around town. The original owner, a Canadian, had sold on to two Aussie miners. Who had resold shares, repeatedly, yes, the same ones! The partners were all Australian miners except one, Mad Mike. A Welshman who did some work in the bar, unlike the others. The partners were all more interested in drinking than profit, including Mike, who enjoyed the cheap beer. Hence, the bulk of The

Headrockʼs customers were part owners. Nobody seemed too worried about being conned. They were earning good money in the mines, all except Mad Mike. It was somewhere to have a 'yarn' about in the canteen. Mike was potless.

His partners turned up during their holiday time and drank the place dry. Mad Mike was the only one worried about restocking the ice boxes with beer. And the only partner without an income from away from the pub business.

Kev and Dam set about coming up with the idea that would suit them as much as Mad Mike.

Kev went along to The Headrock to enlist Mike as a tour agent. The idea was workable, and now he had to convince the Welshman how good an opportunity it was. Without Mike guessing, it was not all for his benefit.

Mike was from Mumbles, a resort near Swansea in Wales. He was sitting at the empty bar, an empty bottle in hand and a head devoid of ideas. What to do about restocking the fridge?

'Donʼt ask for a beer. This was the last one, sorry, mate.'

'It's not a beer I'm after. I want to speak to Mike, is that you?'

'Call me Mad Mike, everybody does, donʼt know why, though.'

After introductions and general chitchat, Kev got serious.

'If you are interested, I can arrange for you to have a guided tour of Kaeng Krachan National Park. It'll only cost you petrol money. But with the knowledge you gain, you'll be able to invite some visitors and charge them more than petrol money. It could be a good little earner. Making you a tour guide. Interested?'

'As you can see, I need to earn some money, so yes, when can we go?'

The Welshman put his hand in his pocket, pulling out a few crumpled notes.

'You'd better have the petrol money now. I donʼt know if I'll have it next time I see you. What did you say your name is?' Mike asked as he passed over the cash.

'The name is Kev. It was good to meet you, and I'll let you know when we go.'

Kev already thought it could be terrible if the Welshman couldn't remember a name. What else would he forget?

Mike realised he would need another source of income. Being a tour agent seemed like a good idea. With more tourists coming to town, it had to be a winner. It had to be better than sitting here alone dreaming, even if there was, sometimes, something to drink.

With that, Kev left Mike to worry about the lack of beer while he went to track down Pi Meow. Then, in two minds, he shook off his doubts and carried on with his plan.

As luck would have it, the house owner, dealer, and God knows what else he is, was at home. He welcomed Kev like a long-lost friend. Soon some Chinese tea arrived. Kev knew he had to be careful about what he said. Pi Meow could be a dangerous man.

'Pi Kap,' started Kev, 'I have a "falang" friend who is keen to start a tour business. I immediately thought of you, with your perfect trip for tourists.'

He carried on. 'He wants to view the park. He needs me to go with him to help him with the Thai language and introduce him to you and your team. He would then attract tourists from the visitors to the town. And explain how exciting and interesting the national park is. He plans to arrange a tour to suit your availability, charge them a set fee, and pay you whatever you think fits. If that business interests you?'

Pi Meow kept his poker face firmly, pretending he was not sure about the idea.

'I am a busy man. Not sure how often I can spare the time.'

That was precisely the response Kev was expecting. It meant yes to the deal. Pi Meow was already working out how much contraband he could bring on each trip. And get paid for doing it. All of it would be under cover of running a tourist excursion. Perfect.

'Today is Friday, how about we go Tuesday? Can you and your friend be ready then? 7 am?'

'I'm sure that will be fine. Thank you for your time Pi.'

Kev was being his most polite self. Pi shows respect for somebody older or in a more senior position. Which, in this case, was confirmed in both. So, with a wai and a slight bow, Kev left.

First, Kev had to inform Mr Black at the Embassy, then tell Mad Mike he could start his new business.

Mr Black was unavailable, but Kev got a message to his ever-efficient secretary. Mad Mike was also not available. He was drunk. No beer, so he must have drained the spirit bottle lying next to him. That is not a good sign.

Kev took hold of Mike's shoulders, gave him a shake and led him to his office. Mike was struggling to get one foot in front of the other. It needed Skylab to help sober the bar owner/tour agent up. Luckily she had no language pupils in the office. Students would either be embarrassed or laugh at Mike. Neither would be suitable for a business teaching foreign behaviour and languages. Two large mugs of steaming coffee were working. Finally, Mike regained the power of speech.

'Listen, Mike, this is important. My reputation is on the line here. I have given you this chance to set up a new business. Make sure you are sober Monday night. We are going at 7 am on Tuesday.'

'7 am, you mean in the morning? I donʼt do mornings.'

'Then treat it as a late Monday night. Tomorrow you had better show me where you live; I'll get you on Tuesday.'

With that, Mike stumbled down the road back to an empty bar.