From 'Kilingiri'

Thongkla Prison squatted like a malevolent toad in a swamp of stinking mud, the walls crumbling like cream-crackers where inclement weather and pollution had eroded its fabric, staining the formerly pale grey stone with leprous patches of grime and mildew. The stench of sewage and unwashed bodies filled nostrils and lacquered throats with a stinking, oily film. After being accused of possessing marijuana in a quantity that indicated trafficking, Nina had been incarcerated in this hell-hole for the past three months. Greg had arranged for James Pembroke, one of Bangkok's finest legal brains, to take her case. Having been raised in Thailand, he spoke the language fluently, thus avoiding the need for an interpreter, a vital asset in a country where all legal transactions were carried out in Thai. The prognosis for was not promising. ‘Your fiancée is in a devil of a mess, Dr. McKinley. I'm sure you realise that trafficking is a criminal offence in Thailand. Our country has a very real problem with drug smuggling across the borders with Burma and Laos and officials here are determined to stamp out this illegal and highly dangerous activity. I don't need to remind you that if found guilty, Miss Maitland will be executed or serve a life sentence?’