I got to my feet. 'Right, might as well get back to the hotel.'

Suzy nodded and stood up. I picked up my helmet, putting it on as I walked to the bike. She hooked the bag over her head and shoulders, then put her helmet on as I kicked up the side-stand and turned the ignition. She waited while I revved up and added our share of black exhaust to the rest as I manoeuvred the bike with my feet to get it facing the road.

The Lite Ace moved towards the mosque gates. There was no indication of which way he was turning, but if he followed his own script of the last week and a bit he should be going with the traffic: to his left, our right. Suzy climbed on, and fiddled with her helmet to buy us time while we waited for the Lite Ace to get on to the road. My head was already hot and sticky inside the crash helmet, which stank of years of tourists' greasy hair. The plastic strap under my chin was slippery against my two days' growth.

She tapped me on the shoulder, just as the Lite Ace merged with the traffic. We turned right, against the flow, in front of the massed headlights, and began to take the target. There were four cars and a swarm of Honda 70s between us. He slowed for a group of tourists crossing the road, then accelerated to catch up with the flow. We followed, stopping and starting, guided by his flickering right brake light. If I lost him, this would be an excellent VDM for me to look out for either in the dark or in general traffic confusion. I knew it was there because I had slipped out with a screwdriver a couple of nights ago. If whipping was the penalty for using a dodgy satellite card, I dreaded to think what it would be for tampering with a vehicle.

The cars and heavy vehicles came to a halt again, but the scooters carried on weaving in and out. Instead of following suit, I stopped and kicked down into first, kept the clutch in and stayed well back.