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…

to the poorer end of town…

Nothing hangs together.

to my empty coffee cup. “Mais café, Senhor

“Sim. Thank you.”

guide. “Senhor Hughes…” He stabs a finger

I ‘can’t speak

Many bad

prick. “Woman? Que tipo de bad men

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

I say.

He nods vigorously. “Sim, muita violência. Muito

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

closes it, then slaps it down on the table. “Bad place, Senhor. And bad men.” He

said bad woman

nodding. “Prostitutes, sim.

bad woman. What

like 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. She has

sounding

Juliana…

What does she

at

try again. “The bad woman… A mulher

upheld, he shrugs. “Ninguém sabe. Ela

What does she look

Again, that blank stare…

my head… “Tall?” …

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

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

jabs fingers at places where ‘Nice turista man is

minutes later I’ve 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 interpreting the language than

archives, I

experimental search term… Sao Paulo organised crime… Then as

000 results, starting with

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

tap in another search. Names

results, this time, but some

Brazil’s largest gang is enticing

Evolution of the

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