The coffee strong and fragrant, washes away my doubts and clears my thinking, although granted, it leaves me with my problem.

How to find Juliana?

And what is the significance of the invoice addresses?

I let my mind freewheel, caffeine lubricating the gears.

What's the connection?

?

?

Back to basics...

Finchby’s invoices...

Taken from his own files…

Supply addresses from legitimate businesses…

… Listing women, children… Human cargo.

???

That can't possibly be what went through the customs checks...

Duplicate documents then?

Same references. Same monetary values. Different cargo.

That would seem logical: A parallel accounting system: one for the outside world, one for private records.

Yes, that works. Any competent criminal could make that work. And doubtless, with the money involved, they’d have accountants and bookkeepers… Perhaps even customs officers and tax inspectors on the payroll.

But none of that gives me the connection to Antonio’s bar or any of the others.

Why here?

Frustrated, mind spiralling inward…

Damn the coffee…

order another

*****

Charlotte

by the nursery door, wearing the jeans and boots he uses for riding, and a thick cable-knit sweater… “…I’m going to take Oliver out. Want

And the sunshine is that brilliant clear white

could use the exercise. Um…” I look down to my tiny daughter, blinking at the mobile rotating above her in the cot, trying,

from her rocking chair next to mine. “She’ll

you give me five minutes, just while

steps to bring him close to me, then reaches down with a long finger, stroking Cara’s cheek. His face might seem impassive to any that didn’t know him, but I see the hidden smile behind his eyes. Our daughter burbles a bit but doesn’t seem to mind. “Take all the time

*****

he is checking Charlie’s girth. “All ready for you.”

pullover. “Two woollens, a cotton

lips twitch, then he stoops by Charlie, locking his hands into a cup. “C’mon, I’ll give you

his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down. We’re going now.” Oliver’s ears flick forward, but he settles long enough for my Master

he says, “I thought we might take the path through the top

“Great idea.”

*****

ground is firm with the cold and Oliver is trying to take the bit. Head

jarring

you to the end of the

the fence.

Charlie, and she moves from trot to

almost immediately, he thunders up, first closing behind me, then alongside, snorting steam as he pulls ahead. But as her son begins to draw away,

like a maniac, panting, my blood racing. My Master’s eyes

air frigid and fresh. Oliver and

of the gate latch to let

bridle path that will take us to the trail

I want to

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