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

*****

Charlotte

he uses for riding, and a thick cable-knit sweater…

indeed a lovely day, with a crisp snap to the air. And the sunshine is that brilliant clear white you only get

tiny daughter, blinking at the mobile rotating above her in the cot, trying, with unformed muscles, to reach

eye on Cara.” My Mom smiles from her

five minutes, just while

cheek. His face might seem impassive to any that didn’t know him, but I

*****

from where he is checking Charlie’s girth. “All ready for you.” Straightening up, he runs over me with his eyes. “You’re wearing

down the neck of my roll-top pullover. “Two woollens, a cotton top and a thermal

locking his hands into a cup. “C’mon, I’ll give

My Master slaps him on the shoulder then runs a hand up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down. We’re going now.” Oliver’s ears flick forward, but he settles long

he says, “I thought we might take the path through the top field then loop back for the trail through the

“Great idea.”

*****

wonderful Master, riding together as though there were no-one else in the world. The ground is firm with the cold and Oliver is trying to take

Charlie, also performing, jarring under me. “They both do. They’ll settle after they’ve

you to the end of

“Only to the fence. No jumping. That

at Charlie, and

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, Charlie jolts under me with another burst of speed and as we reach the end of the

maniac, panting, my blood racing. My Master’s eyes are soft. “It’s good to see

down the mountain, the lake glittering at the bottom, the air frigid and fresh. Oliver and Charlie blow blue from their nostrils. “It’s so good to be able to move again properly. Sometimes,

out, lifting the long arm of the gate latch to let me

follow the bridle path that will take

something I

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