An hour later, Maier raced a Kawasaki dirt bike through the suburbs of the capital, on his way to Kampot. The road south had improved since the UNTAC days, but the traffic was still life-threatening. He needed to reach Daniela’s alleged killer alive, but he knew that time was running short.
Cambodia knew no driving licenses, nor was there a minimum age for drivers, and most private vehicles had no number plates. No one was insured. Every few kilometres, Maier passed an accident. Every time, a small crowd gathered and people stood staring at a mangled motorbike or its dead or dying driver. No one tried to help. No one called an ambulance. Ambulances and doctors were for the rich, who, in the event of an emergency, would have themselves taken to Phnom Penh Airport and medivacced to Bangkok.
