The meal goes smoothly enough, albeit with a lot of negotiating the rapids and under-currents of good manners and courtesy.

Beth’s pregnancy proves a safe topic of discussion, with none of the pitfalls and booby traps lying in wait if we talk about anything closer to home. Mitch is a star, repeatedly shifting the conversation back onto the imminent birth of Beth’s and Richard’s new son.

Later, in a quiet moment with Michael, “My apologies,” I say. “Tact isn’t one of Georgie’s virtues. It never was.”

His answering smile is wry. “Like father, like daughter.”

*****

Klempner

Two weeks and… nothing…

Not a whisper. Nothing I can find.

Sitting in the corner of Antonio’s, I’ve spent a pleasant afternoon, but frustration gnaws at me. Hickman reports that all is well, but…

Has Juliana given up?

?

Not fucking likely…

Antonio’s cafe has become somewhat of a routine. Misgivings nudge me, reminding me that I shouldn’t develop such habits…

… Making myself vulnerable…

But, with nothing to go on, what the hell else can I do?

On the other hand, there has to be some reason for the address to have been used in Finchby’s invoices.

Perhaps I just need to wait.

But what am I waiting for?

How long can I keep doing this?

Still, in the meantime, while I wait for my mystery to unravel, the old man is genuinely good company. And also, a mine of local information.

Finishing a cup of the excellent coffee, I consult a local guide, comparing my list of addresses to a local map, looking for some pattern, seeking inspiration…

Access to road…

Access to the ports…

Whereabouts of police stations…

the poorer end of town… the red-light

Nothing hangs together.

my elbow, nodding down to my empty coffee cup. “Mais café, Senhor

“Sim. Thank you.”

glances at my guide. “Senhor Hughes…” He stabs a finger at my page. “You not go

I ‘can’t speak the language’… “What’s the

Many bad men

Que tipo de bad men

“One time, since many years, this city….” He sweeps his arms out in circles all around… “…all bad place. Much…” He falters then holds out two fingers making a Bang Bang gesture… “And much…” Invisible knife gripped in his hand,

I say. “Much

vigorously. “Sim, muita violência.

smoke an imaginary cigarette and again he nods. Then I mime injecting myself…

yet. “…And the womans para prostitutas.” He takes the book from me, closes it, then slaps it down on the

bad woman too?

again, nodding. “Prostitutes, sim. But há sim one

bad woman.

Not like other cities. Since two years, bad men here again. And this woman is baddest.

sounding deeply

Juliana…

woman, her name? What does she

at me

again. “The bad woman… A mulher má… Her name?

shrugs. “Ninguém sabe.

mystery? What does she

Again, that blank stare…

my hand to my head… “Tall?” … Then lower… “Short?

forefinger at me, then at my city guide, repeating, “Bad place. Bad people. You not go there. I

up the guide, riffling through. “You like o museu de arte, Senhor Hughes? We have many artista famoso there. And we have

places where ‘Nice turista man is safe.’ But my

on a variety of Brazilian newspapers, or at least, their English editions. I

archives, I know what I’m looking

Sao Paulo organised crime… Then as an afterthought, add,

000 results, starting with a Wikipedia

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

another search. Names of

results, this time, but

is enticing recruits

the Most Lethal Criminal Organization

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