I fumbled for the handset, guided by the green light blinking bright in the near darkness of a hotel room with the drapes pulled closed. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Brodie, this is your wake up call.’ A young man’s voice dripped with fake warmth. I was instantly filled with dread that I should be elsewhere. I had an idea I was in Seoul but no clue what day it was, nor even what time of day. Long seconds passed before I noticed the afternoon glare leaking through the crack in the heavy curtains. It wasn’t morning, and I hadn’t screwed up. Not yet, anyway. A guilty conscience is a terrible thing. Ten minutes in the shower and a routine check of the camera bag later, I was in the taxi line in front of the hotel, ignoring attempts by Deluxe Taxi drivers to draw me their way. At the regular taxi rank I waited while the short line was whittled away by arrivals of ‘normal’ cabs. When I managed to prise some expenses money out of Lee I would happily leave the regular cabs behind, but right now the costly privilege of overstuffed seat covers and sickly air fresheners could wait.
