Chapter 1
Here in subarctic Magadan, the optimistic forecast for this gloomy first Wednesday of June was only eight degrees Celsius.
Chapter 2
Another great thing about the CCX are the dihedral synchro-helix actuation doors. Just saying the words is worth the six-hundred-thousand-dollar price tag.
Chapter 2
A car was waiting to take me the rest of the way into Magadan, and Hotel Centralnaya at 13 Lenin Avenue.
Chapter 4
My apartment was in The Four Seasons Private Residences in Yorkville.
Chapter 5
Some eighty years later, Bridle Path still has only a few roads, and is enveloped by parks and the peaceful Don River Valley.
Chapter 6
When the steward announced the pilot was taking the Air Canada Embraer 190 in for a landing at John G. Diefenbaker Airport, I experienced an uncomfortable feeling (which seemed to be happening a great deal recently). Doubt.
Chapter 13
Bromley is the main town in one of the thirty two boroughs that make up greater Outer London. Although only fifteen kilometres away from Charing Cross, and a major metropolitan area, Bromley is one of the few London boroughs not served by the London Underground.
Chapter 14
It was late when I arrived. But I knew we were pulling into the driveway of the famed Singapore Raffles Hotel—the original Raffles—when I heard the sudden change from pavement to crushed pebbles beneath the wheels of the hotel’s Bentley.
Chapter 14
Raffles Singapore is not only an historic hotel, but an international landmark. It’s where film stars mingle with heads of state and top politicians.
Chapter 14
The suite was old world colonial grandeur. Large. Sparse. Teak-wood floors. There were easy chairs, handmade carpets, and lazy fans rotating from fourteen-foot ceilings. There is nothing quite so comforting as a well-appointed hotel room.
Chapter 14
Opposite, the Writers’ Bar. A tribute to literary giants, like Noel Coward, who’ve stayed here over the years. It’s actually not so much a bar, as a collection of three or four tables, a piano, a guy serving drinks, and a gold-plated plaque proclaiming its noteworthiness.
Chapter 14
Once inside, I marvelled at the soaring, sparkling, bright white atrium, dramatically offset by dark polished woods.
Chapter 14
The car door was opened by a turbaned doorman, resplendent in a dazzling white uniform. I stepped out and was greeted by name, as if it hadn’t been almost five years since I’d last stayed here.
Chapter 15
Instead of water, I’d landed on the flat bottom of a bumboat. A burlap bag was pulled over my head. With amazing speed, my hands were bound behind me...Before I had a chance to even think about what was happening, the boat powered up and off we went. The way I figured it, I’d either just been kidnapped, or was being taken away to be killed.
Chapter 15
As time passed and Singapore became more of an economic center, the riverfront warehouses faded into obscurity, replaced by Clarke Quay, Boat Quay and Robertson Quay. The Quays became the center of nightlife in Singapore, offering night clubs, restaurants, and fun attractions along the riverfront.
Chapter 15
Meet me – Boat Quay – outside Fullerton Hotel...
Chapter 15
Clarke Quay is five blocks of restored warehouses of various eateries and nightclubs, and moored Chinese junks, or tongkangs, refurbished into floating pubs and seafood joints.
Chapter 15
Bumboats are typically flat-bottomed, wooden, and barge-like; not really built for speed.
Chapter 15
The banks of the Singapore River were once lined with warehouses filled with goods meant for distribution throughout Singapore and Malaysia.
Chapter 15
Not yet 7:00 a.m., the temperature had already reached the mid-twenties. The air hung heavy with moisture, and the fragrant scent of nearby Frangipanis. I’d asked for breakfast to be served outside, on the small, glass-topped table directly across from my suite’s front door.
Chapter 15
Early the next morning, I stepped out onto the common verandah that fronts the Palm Court Suites. The verandah itself was a study in old world simplicity and serenity. It looked out over a cozy inner courtyard, lined with Livistona Palms, graceful Casuarina Trees (planted in honour of Somerset Maugham, whose first book of short stories set in the East, was called The Casuarina Tree), and distinctive Traveller’s Palms, ever so fitting for a hotel.
Chapter 15
Pushing aside palm leaves, I scanned the courtyard and adjoining wings of the hotel.
Chapter 15
And there he was. Second floor. Main building. Directly across the courtyard.
Chapter 15
The naked boys in the note was in reference to a well-known bronze statue. It replicated the carefree scene of five naked boys, happily jumping off the quay into the river below, as if to cool themselves off on a sweltering hot day.
Chapter 15
As the Singapore River gently twists and turns its way inland, beneath numerous bridges, Boat Quay, with its chic cafes, high-end restaurants, yuppie pubs, and designer galleries, eventually gives way to the wilder and baser Clarke Quay.
Chapter 15
Old rubber tires fixed to the sides, are used as shock absorbers, in case of collision with the quay, jetty, or other boats. Which doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the boat, or pilot.
Chapter 15
The Blue Malaysian Coral Snake’s venom is primarily neurotoxic. Which means resulting death is sneaky.
Chapter 16
We were literally sitting on top of the world; also known as the SkyPark atop the Marina Bay Sands complex.
Chapter 16
... connected at the top by a one hectare sky terrace...
Chapter 16
The SkyPark boasted the world's largest, public, cantilevered platform. It hung over the north tower by sixty seven metres, providing a stunning 360 degree view of the Singapore skyline.
Chapter 16
...the Singapore skyline.
Chapter 16
I dashed to the edge of the building and gazed down. We were on Clarke Quay. A long row of canopies, belonging to a string of street-side establishments, were stretched out below us.
Chapter 16
I dashed to the edge of the building and gazed down. We were on Clarke Quay. A long row of canopies, belonging to a string of street-side establishments, were stretched out below us.
Chapter 16
From a Canadian’s perspective, the massive structure with its three 55-storey hotels, connected at the top by a one hectare sky terrace, looks a lot like an inukshuk.
Chapter 18
Even the traffic seems to move slower in the blistering heat of a July afternoon in Las Vegas. As the taxi made its way down congested Las Vegas Boulevard, mirage-like panels of shimmering heat emanated from the frying pan pavement.
Chapter 18
Opened in 1946 by mobster Bugsy Siegel, the Flamingo Hotel is the oldest resort on the Strip still in operation today. Siegel named the resort after his girlfriend, whose long, skinny legs earned her the nickname Flamingo.
Chapter 19
For me, at that particular moment in time, the Sky Lobby bar was a much-needed nirvana.
Chapter 19
...low, slung-back, red leather chairs set off against dark floors, the inviting couches with striped cushions, and, especially, the beautiful young woman manning the fully stocked bar.
Chapter 19
Although it was mere steps off the Strip, the Mandarin, a non-gaming, non-glitz hotel and residential tower, offered a cool, inviting, quiet respite from the madness just outside its doors.
Chapter 19
From there I could watch the millions of lights along the seven kilometre Strip come to life, as we approached an 8:00 p.m. sunset. I ordered a scotch and settled in.
Chapter 19
I soaked up the floor to ceiling stunning views of the Strip...
Chapter 19
Eventually, wanting to get far away from the treachery at the Flamingo, and escape the unrelenting heat and throngs of jubilant tourists, I crossed the street. I headed for the hip CityCentre complex, with its stylish glass high rises jutting into the sky at every odd angle but straight up.
Chapter 21
Dauphin, surrounded by fertile farmland, is one of those naturally beautiful Canadian locales you see in travel brochures. It’s situated in the heart of Manitoba's most spectacularly scenic region, known as the Parkland.
Chapter 21
As promised, Perimeter’s propeller plane—say that fast five times—deposited me at Dauphin’s tiny, blue and white airport building, precisely at 6:40 p.m.
Chapter 21
For tonight, he had me booked at Canway Inn & Suites, which offered private entrances, a pool, in-room coffee, and Jacuzzi hot tub suites. The hotel was connected to a Smitty’s Family Restaurant and, more importantly, the Internet.
Chapter 28
Mughsail Beach.
Eight kilometres of pure, white, coral sand, hugged by beautifully sculptured cliffs and rugged mountains on one side, and a spectacularly turquoise ocean on the other.
Chapter 28
Crystal clear waves crashed against the beach in a mesmerizing symphony of sound and seaspray.
Chapter 28
Oman, much of it untouched by tourism, was that kind of place.
Chapter 28
At the far end of the beach, silhouetted in black against the cloudless azure sky, was a small caravan of camels. They were making their early morning pilgrimage to a nearby village, where they would find fresh water.
