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…

of town… the red-light district…

Nothing hangs together.

to my

“Sim. Thank you.”

“Senhor Hughes…” He stabs a finger at my page. “You

remembering that I ‘can’t speak the language’…

bad men

ears prick. “Woman? Que tipo

then pulls a chair across to sit close by me. His voice lowers and he leans in close. “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

I say. “Much

vigorously. “Sim, muita violência.

he nods. Then

He leans closer yet. “…And the womans para prostitutas.” He takes the book from me, closes it, then slaps it down on the table. “Bad place, Senhor. And bad men.” He wags a finger at me.

said bad woman

nodding. “Prostitutes, sim. But há sim one bad woman

bad woman. What she

other cities. Since two years, bad men here again. And this woman is baddest. She is…” He splutters

sounding deeply

Juliana…

her name? What does

stares at

again. “The bad woman… A mulher má…

he shrugs. “Ninguém sabe. Ela

does

Again, that blank stare…

hand to my head… “Tall?” …

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

museu de arte, Senhor Hughes? We have

he jabs fingers at places where ‘Nice turista man is safe.’ But my mind’s

signed up for subscriptions on a variety of Brazilian newspapers, or at least, their English editions. I can read Portuguese, but

now, delving into the newspaper archives,

term… Sao Paulo organised crime…

results, starting with a

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

Names of criminal gangs sao

results, this time, but some more

gang is enticing

The Evolution of the Most Lethal Criminal Organization

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