The setting was the front of a luxury hotel, one of the archipelago of 
Shangri-Las strung up the Kowloon-Guangzhou superhighway. The horseshoe drive 
was paved with interlocking blocks, brass door handles gleamed, thickets of 
tropical
flowers sprouted from boat-size planters in the lobby. Men in business suits 
spoke into cellphones and checked their watches, white-gloved bellhops sprinted 
into the drive, pulled suitcases from the trunks of red taxicabs, wiped them 
down with clean moist cloths.