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

Nothing hangs together.

down to my

“Sim. Thank you.”

and he glances at my guide. “Senhor Hughes…” He stabs a finger at my page. “You not go this place. Is bad place for nice English cavalheiro like

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

bad. Many bad men

“Woman? Que tipo de bad men and

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 making a Bang

I say. “Much

vigorously. “Sim, muita violência.

nods. Then I mime injecting

the book from me, closes it, then slaps it down on the table. “Bad place, Senhor.

said bad woman

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

bad woman. What she

other cities. Since two years, bad men here again. And this woman is baddest. She is…” He splutters for a moment… “She same as prostitute.

is sounding

Juliana…

woman, her name? What does she look

at me

bad woman… A mulher má… Her

he shrugs. “Ninguém sabe. Ela

mystery? What does she

Again, that blank stare…

hand to my head… “Tall?”

at my city guide, repeating, “Bad place. Bad people. You not go there. I show you nice place for nice English turista man.

like o museu de arte, Senhor Hughes? We have many artista famoso there. And we have parques…” He nods vigorously…

on, nodding as he jabs fingers at places where ‘Nice

signed up for subscriptions on a variety of Brazilian newspapers, or at least, their English editions. I can read Portuguese, but it doesn’t come so naturally as reading in English. I spend more of my time

newspaper archives, I know what I’m looking

Paulo organised

blinks: 139,000, 000 results, starting

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

another search. Names of

time, but some more useful

gang is

Evolution of the Most Lethal Criminal Organization

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