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…

Nothing hangs together.

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

“Sim. Thank you.”

stabs a finger at

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

very bad. Many bad men there. And badder

tipo de bad men and

his arms out in circles all around…

violence,” I

vigorously. “Sim,

an imaginary cigarette and again he nods. Then

then slaps it down on the table. “Bad place, Senhor.

said bad woman

nodding. “Prostitutes, sim. But há

bad 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 this woman is baddest. She is…” He splutters for a moment… “She same as

sounding

Juliana…

What does she

at me

woman… A

shrugs. “Ninguém sabe. Ela

What does she look

Again, that blank stare…

head… “Tall?” …

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

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

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

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 so naturally as reading in English. I spend more of my

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

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

results, starting with a

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

tap in another search. Names

results, this time, but some more useful

Brazil’s largest gang is enticing recruits with

of the Most

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