"Michael, something's seriously wrong. I'm sure of it."
"Mrs G, you're worrying over nothing. He'll be fine. He always is."
"I knew you'd say that. I suppose that's why I rang you, voice of reason and all that. But it's been nearly three weeks now since I've heard a word out of him. Before that he was emailing every two or three days."
"Look, we all know John's not the most reliable person, Mrs G. And besides, in some of these places they don't even have telephones, never mind internet cafés. You'll probably get a postcard or something in a day or two. Just don't worry. I'll call you as soon I hear from him."

I hung up the phone. Actually, I am rather worried about John, but I don't want his mother to know that. We'd talked about it being dangerous in some parts of Asia. Westerners aren't the most popular people over there. Still, he probably is OK. He's always been pretty streetwise - much more than me, at any rate.

I've been checking all the news websites several times a day. No mention of any trouble in Malaysia, or at least none involving Westerners. The last email I got from them was seventeen days ago. Same boring rubbish, most of which I didn't read at the time. He included some pictures of Linda which are always worth a look. No, what was out of character wasn't the sudden cessation in emails, but the fact that he'd been sending any in the first place.

But reading through them now, I am starting to get a bit worried. He'd said they'd found small town where they'd probably stay for a while. So it's always possible something bad has happened.

I've known John since we were kids. We were always quite different people, but we just seemed to get along well. I didn't see him much after I went to university. We'd meet up once a year at Christmas. I saw his mother more often than I saw him. She was a friend of my mother's, and was often round at the house. As a kid she'd always been quite friendly. I think she thought I was a steadying influence on John, which of course I wasn’t at all.
For the last few years I'd hardly seen him at all, so it was great to hear from him a few months ago, with a phone call out of the blue.

"Hey Michael, how ya doin'?"
"John? Gosh, didn't expect to hear from you. I'm great, thanks. What you been up to?"
"Not much really. Bit o' this, bit o' that. Y'know. Listen, are you around tonight?"
"What, are you in London? Yeah, I'm free tonight. Excellent. Where shall we go? How did you find me, by the way?"
"Oh, your mum gave me the number. Anyway, I'll come round. I've got your address. Any decent pubs near you?"

He hadn't changed much, when he finally turned up at my flat. Still the same old John. Full of ideas for making a killing, most of them just slightly on the wrong side of the law. To be fair to him, he'd never tried to involve me in any of them, not since we were kids. I'd probably lose my job immediately if they thought there was the slightest thing untrustworthy about me. But John doesn't worry the way I do.

"So the plan is, right, to get all these hazardous materials and store them in a massive warehouse. It costs a fortune to dispose of that stuff properly, so you go to small companies and offer to take it off their hands cheap."
"What kind of stuff?"
"Oh, I don't know, asbestos, old tyres, anything really. Everything's regulated these days, that's what keeps people like you in work. Say you can get 50p a tyre. Thirty thousand tyres is, what, fifteen grand? Now, here's the clever bit. You rent this warehouse, fill it full of stuff that you've been paid to take away, and then you don't pay the rent. After a few months, the landlord gets pissed off with you, changes the locks and hey presto! he legally owns all the stuff!"
"Hmm. Sounds a bit dodgy. Are you sure it would work?"
"Can't see why not. Of course, you'd want to do it somewhere out of the way. Up in Scotland or something, cos you couldn't stick around once the landlord realised he'd been stitched up."
"I see. Bit of a nasty trick on the landlord though, don't you think?"
"Oh bollocks, serve the thieving bastards right. They deserve it. And anyway, what's it to them? They've got insurance, haven't they? And if they haven't, they bloody should have."

The evening went on in that vein for a while. Then John asked about my job at the bank. No-one usually listens once I've told them I'm a compliance officer, but John was all ears. I know he'll never ask me to join in his scheming, but he was certainly asking a lot of questions. I was just starting to wonder if this was the reason he'd called me, when he mentioned that he was going travelling for a year.

"Hey, that's terrific, where are you going?"
"South East Asia, I think. That's where Linda wants to go. I'm not particularly bothered."
"Linda?"
"Oh, I didn’t tell you. I'm engaged"
"Really? I didn't think you were the marrying type. Congratulations, that's great news. Who is she, where'd you meet her?"
"Thanks mate. Yeah, it is good, isn't it? I met her a few months back - on a train, as it happens. She was sitting opposite me, and the steward split coffee all over her. I did my Prince Charming to the rescue bit, and the rest, as they say …"

"Course, my mum's all worried about attacks on tourists. But I think she's worrying about nothing", said John, as I arrived back with two more pints.
"Ah yes, I hadn't thought of that. Could be a bit worrying, I suppose."
"Nah, we'll be fine. And Linda so tanned she'll look like a local over there. Here, I've got a picture of her. What do you think?"
John handed me a folded up piece of A4 with a computer-printed photo of a girl in what looked like a village in Thailand. Not that I've ever been to there, or anywhere outside of mainland Britain, not since I was a kid. But if I'd had to guess, I would have said somewhere like that. She was slim with blonde hair and an extremely pretty face.
"Wow", I said. "She's, er, nice, isn’t she?
"I'll say. What a stunner, eh?"
"Certainly is. Not sure she'd look like a local though, with all that blonde hair. She's been travelling before, then?", I asked, nodding towards the photo.
He hesitated. "Oh, er, yeah. She loves it out there. I was hoping she'd come over this evening, actually, but she couldn't make it. Never mind. You'll meet her soon enough."

Later, as we were leaving, John raised the subject of safety again. I'd thought earlier that he might perhaps have been putting on a front, pretending not to be worried.
"Listen Michael, have you got an email address? Cos I've been thinking of keeping in touch while I'm away. You know, just in case anything goes wrong."
"That's not like you, John", I said, but decided not to push the issue. "Yeah, I've got a couple actually, work and home. I'll give them to you".
"Ah great. Thanks for that. I've been thinking of getting a digital camera too. I might even be able to send some photos back from over there of all the Asian beauties."
"Always welcome", I answered. "Anyway, presumably Linda's got one already."
"One what?", he asked.
"A digital camera. Or was that picture you showed me scanned?"
"Oh, right. Yeah, of course. Now you mention it, she has got one".

The next I heard from him was an email saying they were out in Malaysia. It was rather long on description and facts and rather short on interest value. It didn’t seem like John's style at all. Perhaps he's getting Linda to write them, I thought. Then a few days later, another one arrived in a similar vein. That one had a couple of photos attached. Lots of greenery in the background, with Linda in the foreground looking just as good as she had in pub. A few days after that another arrived, and there's been a steady stream of them since, until all of a sudden they stopped.

Travelling had never been something I've wanted to do particularly. For one thing I hate flying. And it's always seemed slightly irresponsible and self-indulgent to endanger your career for a bit of short term enjoyment. But I have to admit that this unexpected travelogue was beginning to change my mind. Not that I'd ever actually do it, but it had given me something to daydream about.

And then the had emails stopped, and my daydreaming turned into conjuring up all the nasty things that could happen to unwary travellers. Perhaps they'd been robbed and murdered, and their bodies were right now being pecked over by scavenging animals and birds. It wasn't completely out of the question that one of John's money-making schemes had caused some offence to his hosts, and they were paying the price with bamboo splinters in their fingernails. Or maybe they'd wandered into a paramilitary training camp, never to be seen again.

Stop worrying, you idiot, I told myself. You're always looking on the dark side of things. They're bound to be fine. Just go and check your email and see if they've sent anything.

I went into the bedroom which I've been using as my office. That's odd, I thought. Along with all the usual spam, there was one with John's full name in the subject. I opened it. As I read it, my jaw dropped. This is a joke, I thought. My heart started to thump, and I noticed my hands shaking as I clicked the mouse to go back to the beginning and read it again. Oh shit. Oh no. I read it a third time, my mouth dry, my hands clammy. I sat back, taking deep breaths. Oh Jesus, they’re in big trouble, I thought.

The phone rang. John's mother. "Michael, Michael! I don't know what to do. Oh God, what are we going to do? Michael! Oh my God! Michael! It's John and Linda. They've been kidnapped!"