The Dhaka hotel is a little three-star place that aims for the passing through backpacker or short-term party person. The curtains are thick and heavy, allowing no light through to the room. God for those nocturnal night animals. The decor is very tatty but the rates are cheap and the staff are, well, all of Indian or Pakistani heritage and say very little.
As Sabri surveyed her new place, she smiled beneath her veil, not wishing to scare anyone quite yet. Her manager and retainer, Vani, stood nearby and Sabri called her over.
"I am going for a walk," she tells her most trusted employee. "I must get a feel for this city. Keep these wretches busy, I will not be too long." Sabri indicates the immigrant workers and turns to leave, pulling her sari tight over her shoulders and heads out to the city of Sacramento.
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