Goby was a nine-year-old runaway sea gypsy who was adopted by a friendly Patong cop. The policeman gave him a job helping around the Police station, but his new life wasn?t all that interesting.

It was much more exciting lifting tourist?s wallets or leading paedophiles by the hand into an old building where tough Thai men waited to teach the visitors the error of their ways and to relieve them of any cash they had in their pockets. ?Go to the police if you want. Boy can speak to police too.?

Goby became bored walking around in front of the police station, waiting for a small job or duty. Not so interesting he thought and wandered down the street towards the beach looking for something to do.

A small motorcycle pulled in front of him and a fat Thai man hopped off the bike as fast as his large girth would allow. He wore tan chinos and a brown collared shirt, almost like a uniform but not quite, very neat looking at least.

?Ahhh, there you are Goby. I have been searching all over for you. We have business to attend to; you must come with me,? and with that the man scooped the boy up and climbed back on his little Honda Dream. Goby struggled and kicked but he was pressed tightly under the man?s arm, half submerged, pushed into the soft rolls of his flesh like a hot dog on a bun.

From the rear the man looked like a large circus bear riding one of those tiny bikes. A few minutes later they arrived at Thawiwong Road on the beach and stopped at a motorcycle rental store.

The beach side of the road was meant for public parking but the motorcycle and car renters took up all the spaces and paid the police on the block for the advantage.

The fat man, Khun Yee, had a desk on the sidewalk with locked draws that he used as his office with a chair for himself and another chair for a customer to sit on while they filled out the form to rent a motorcycle. He parked the bike right in front, released his catch and motioned for Goby to take a seat.

Pedestrians had to walk around stepping into the street for a second or onto the sand itself. No one complained; it was a fact of life here that certain privileges were paid for.

?Where have you been? Why haven?t you stopped by? We have three bikes out that need to be taken care of.?

Goby shrugged his shoulders and hung his head. ?I?m not supposed to help any more. I have a new job now.?

?Of course you can help.? The fat man threw three keys across the desk. Each had a slip of paper scotch taped to it with a hotel name and a license plate number. ?You see there are two rentals at one hotel. This will be easy but you may well wait until tonight. They?re probably at the beach now and you?ll never find them.?

Goby picked up the keys. ?Okay last time,? he said as he walked away and did not look back.

?It will be the last time when I say it is,? shouted the fat man standing up and waving his fist.

Goby found the first hotel easily. It was on Soi San Sabai road. The street was well lit so Goby would have to be careful. Luckily there were many motorcycles in front of the hotel, the one he was looking for was at the end of a line.

Goby walked closer, unseen due largely to the fact that the motorcycles were taller than he was. He looked around before inserting the key into the wheel lock.

After the wheel was free he put the key into the ignition and walked the bike backwards, out of the parking space.

When he was ready to go he reached up and pushed the electric start. When the engine was running, Goby stretched as far as he could and put the motorcycle into first gear. This was the tricky part because if he sat on the seat when the bike was standing still, his feet couldn?t touch the ground and the motorcycle would fall over.

Goby trotted along side of the bike as he slowly let the clutch out and when it was going a bit he hopped on and drove off. This was all well and good but he had to be careful and not stop for a light or get caught in traffic because if he was forced to stop the bike would simply fall over and Khun Yee would have a fit like he did the last time when Goby brought back a bike with a scratched gas tank.

Goby drove the bike to an indoor parking lot and scooted right into where the employees parked their motorcycles.

Another tricky part as he shifted into neutral, the bike slowed to a stop and then tottered over with Goby jumping off to the side trying to hold the bike up but by now he had learned to stop right next to a tree or post so the bike did not fall all the way over. Goby walked the bike to a parking spot, put the kickstand down, locked the bike and pocketed the key.

The lot was huge and it took Goby a while to walk back to the street. The shopping center was closing up and people were streaming to their cars and motorcycles. No one paid any attention to a little barefoot boy in worn shorts and an old t-shirt.

Goby turned right out of the parking lot and headed back to Soi San Sabai. He found the second bike in front of the same hotel. There was a night guard in a dark blue shirt and the same colour slacks bloused into black boots. He wore a shiny whistle on a lanyard around his shoulder and had a black leather belt that held a flashlight and a hardwood billy club.

He was sitting on one of the rattan chairs on the front porch of the hotel and had his feet up on a low table.

He was sound asleep. Goby unlocked the Honda 125cc bike and silently backed it out onto the street. He had a stroke of inspiration watching television one afternoon when he was hanging around a bar on the beach road, an old black and white cowboy movie with Indians running alongside their horses before jumping on.

They were so strong and brave, Goby cheered when they shot the settlers and ranchers with their bows and arrows.

Goby started the engine and ran alongside the bike hopping on just like in the movies. A smooth getaway and he drove the bike to the huge parking lot letting it come to rest neatly against a cement post as he slid to the ground. He locked this one up also and pocketed the key. The bikes would be safe here for at least a week and almost impossible to find if anyone was searching for them.

The last hotel was over a kilometer away so he set off walking. It was a beautiful warm night with plenty of people about so Goby didn?t mind a leisurely stroll. It would have been a twenty baht tuk-tuk ride but he didn?t bother trying to flag one down. No driver would pay any attention to him when they could ask two-hundred baht for the same distance from a visitor.

Time was too precious and there was money to be made during the tourist season. Goby reached the hotel and searched for the motorcycle after looking at the license plate number written on the slip of paper taped to the key. He walked up and down in front of the hotel but could not spot the bike. That meant only one thing; the renter was out and was probably having a few drinks.

Goby settled himself across the street on the curb and prepared for a long wait. He decided to go to sleep and see if it was there the next day.

Goby decided to go to sleep and see if the motorcycle was there the next day. Unfortunately when he awoke it wasn't, so Goby wandered back to the police precinct.

It looked like it was going to be an exciting day at the police station, but Goby had important business to attend to.
Khun Yee seemed very impatient by the time Goby arrived.

?Where have you been? Where are the motorcycles? Why aren?t they in my garage? Yee pushed his great bulk up from the chair and leaned heavily on his desk. ?Didn?t you go out last night??

Goby slowly shook his head ?no? and placed the three keys on Khun Yee?s desk. ?I have two bikes but the other man did not come home.?

?That?s better,? the big man smiled. ?Where are they?? he pulled two purple notes from a desk draw and shoved them towards the boy.

Goby took a few steps back. ?No, I?m finished now. Now you can give me 2,000 baht per bike, not 500.?

?That?s too much,? the fat man responded with beads of sweat dripping onto his paper as he spoke, ?The damn police take 3,000 baht from me every time I make out a theft report.?

The boy shrugged his shoulders. ?Maybe you make too many theft reports.? He took another few steps back in anticipation of the big man trying to come around the desk and grab him and stumbled into a couple of tourists who were approaching the desk.

?Our motorcycles are gone. We left them in front of the hotel and they?re not there.? Two white guys. Shorts, t-shirts and sandals; the typical garb of younger travellers.

?What do you mean, they are not there? Didn?t you lock them?? Khun Yee?s face registered shock and surprise.
?Yes, we locked them and now they?re gone. What do we do now?? One of the boys moved to the front of the desk.

?You are responsible for them. If they are gone you will have to pay for them. Once you do that I will be able to return your passports.? Khun Yee said in a quiet and regretful manner.

?How much do they cost?? said the tall youth who had long blond hair pulled back in a pony-tail.

?30,000 baht apiece.?

?What? That?s outrageous. They weren?t even new. Suppose we refuse to pay??

The fat man gave the boys a hard look. ?Then I will be forced to call the police and have you arrested for theft.?
One boy turned to the other and whispered. ?Let?s go to the embassy in Bangkok and say we lost our passports.?
The fat man seemed to know what they were thinking and said, ?You can obtain temporary passports but did you know they can only be used to return to your home country and not to travel around with. Be a shame to cut your vacation short. You have travel insurance??

Goby had heard this all before, so wandered off down to the beach. Back at the desk, Khun Yee was continuing with his well rehearsed spiel, ?I?ll give you a copy of the police report so you can collect the insurance when you get home. Bring me the money before the end of the day and I?ll return your passports. This hasn?t happened to me once in the three years that I?ve been in business. I?m sorry.? Yee shuffled some papers on his desk, cleared his throat and spat on the sidewalk.

The boys turned and started to walk back to their hotel on Soi San Sabai, their hands in their pockets and their heads down. ?Boy, are we screwed. I?ll have to hit the ATM again.?

They brushed past a small dark-skinned boy in shorts, no shoes and a torn t-shirt. He was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, no doubt waiting for them to walk by so he could try to sell them something. ?No thanks kid,? one of the men said.
As the tourists continued towards their hotel the boy called out, ?You don?t want motorbikes??

That stopped them. They turned and looked at this little kid with the bowl shaped haircut. ?How do you know we lost our motorcycles??

The kid looked down and drew a circle on the sidewalk with his toe. ?I hear you speak man.?

?How can you help us?? There seemed to be a slightly dismissive tone to the man?s voice. Goby kept slowly drawing a circle on the sidewalk with his toe and did not look up when he said, ?If I find motorcycles, how much you can give??

The older boys glanced at each for a second and then one said enthusiastically, ?A thousand baht.?

Goby looked up with a smile that seemed to say, ?don?t be silly? and then he verbalised that with ?You give fat man 30,000 baht but want to give me one thousand??

?Okay, how much do you want?? said the shorter boy with dark hair in a crew cut and wraparound sunglasses.
The boy held up five fingers on his small hand. ?5,000 baht.?

?Did you take our bikes?? The dark haired man demanded.

Goby made a face. ?I eight years old. I small boy. How I can drive motorcycle??

?How do you know where our bikes are then??

?Many bigger boys steal motorcycles, drive around all night, get rid of bike, same place every time.?

?And you know where this place is??

Goby nodded his head yes. ?I think so. Do you still have motorcycle keys??

?Yeah, we locked the bikes and kept our keys and now they?re gone but we still have the keys. Okay let?s go.?

The boy with the wraparounds wanted to move forward on this, get it out of the way. Goby grabbed the man by the hand and led him into the street and flagged down a tuk-tuk. This time it stopped for him.

The three of them piled into the tuk-tuk. ?Where to?? asked the taxi driver casting a glance at little Goby.

?You have money?? Goby replied.

?We?ll stop at the bank and I?ll get your 5,000 baht.?

Goby smiled and held up both of his small hands, ten fingers sticking out. ?Each.?