Hot Revenge Box Set 4

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.

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

“Sim. Thank you.”

cup across the table, and he glances at my guide. “Senhor Hughes…” He stabs a finger at my page. “You not go this place. Is bad

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

bad

tipo de

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

I say. “Much

He nods vigorously. “Sim, muita violência. Muito

again he nods. Then I mime injecting myself… “Cocaína…? E

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. “You no go

said bad woman too?

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

bad woman.

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

is sounding

Juliana…

What does she

at me

woman… A mulher

he shrugs. “Ninguém

mystery? What does she

Again, that blank stare…

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

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

Senhor Hughes? We have many artista famoso there.

places

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 so naturally as reading in English. I spend more of my time interpreting the language than I

delving into the newspaper archives, I know

in an experimental search term… Sao Paulo organised crime… Then as

screen blinks: 139,000, 000 results, starting with a

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

in another search. Names of criminal gangs sao

results, this time, but some more useful

largest gang is enticing recruits with a

of the