The monks formed a cordon around John and Amy and moved them back to the parking lot where Master Viphop flagged a second taxi.
“Where are we going?” Amy asked.
“Airport,” Master Viphop said as he climbed into the taxi without the customary bartering and ordered the man to drive them to the airport.
“We don’t have a reservation,” Amy said. “No matter.”
“What do you mean?” Amy asked.
Mast Viphop cast his eyes toward the driver in the front seat and shook his head. Minutes later, after speeding up and slamming on the brakes and swerving around bikes, busses, and trucks, they pulled into the airport where the driver demanded what Master Viphop thought was an excessive sum but paid it anyway.
They climbed out of the taxi and Master Viphop waited for the driver to pull away before he too
