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…

poorer end of town… the red-light district…

Nothing hangs together.

nodding down to

“Sim. Thank you.”

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

that I ‘can’t

bad. Many bad men there. And badder

prick. “Woman? Que tipo de

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

violence,” I say. “Much

nods vigorously. “Sim, muita violência. Muito

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

book from me, closes it, then slaps it down on the table. “Bad place, Senhor. And bad men.” He wags a finger at me.

bad woman

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

woman. What she

Hughes, since twenty year, Sao Paulo bad place. Then, since ten year, Sao Paulo good city. People not die…” Fingers spread, he rocks his hand… “… Not so many. Bad men gone. Not like other cities. Since two years, bad men here again. And

sounding

Juliana…

name? What

at

again. “The bad woman… A mulher

“Ninguém sabe. Ela

does

Again, that blank stare…

to my head… “Tall?” … Then lower… “Short? Alta? Baixo?

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

guide, riffling through. “You like o museu de arte, Senhor Hughes? We have many artista

fingers at places

missed a trick: an obvious trick: ten 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

into the newspaper archives, I know what I’m looking

tap in an experimental search term… Sao Paulo organised

blinks: 139,000, 000 results, starting

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

another search. Names

but some more

Brazil’s largest gang is enticing recruits with a

Evolution of the Most Lethal Criminal

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