A seemingly endless parade of buzzing motor scooters made kamikaze runs in and out of the speeding traffic, their pilots seemingly fearless, immune to the effects of any ill-timed braking or a swinging fender. Sirens pierced the night as the ambulances mobilized to scrape up what was left of the riders who had timed it wrong.“There are literally hundreds of accidents every day with the bikes and scooters,” Rob said, reading her mind.“But everyone drives like they’re insane.”“It’s part of the local charm.”“Reminds me of Rome. Or New Delhi.”“Hmm. Never been.”“You haven’t missed much. Especially India. It’s a different world.”“I’ve been confining my travels to Asia.” Then Rob clammed up. He obviously didn’t feel like sharing any further, so Jet let it go. She wasn’t particularly interested, anyway.“You’re still thinking about the little girl, aren’t you?” he asked, after a time.“Why do you say that?”“I can see it in your eyes.”“Maybe.”“It’s a despicable situation, but we can’t get involved.
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