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…

the poorer end of town…

Nothing hangs together.

my elbow, nodding down to my empty

“Sim. Thank you.”

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

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

very bad. Many bad men there. And

ears prick. “Woman? Que tipo de bad men

man grimaces then 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

“Sim, muita

an imaginary cigarette and again he nods. Then I

then slaps it

woman too? A

again, nodding. “Prostitutes,

bad woman. What

gone. Not like other cities. Since two years, bad men here again. And this woman is baddest. She is…”

is sounding deeply

Juliana…

woman, her name? What does she look

at

“The bad woman… A mulher má… Her

“Ninguém

What does she look

Again, that blank stare…

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

city guide, repeating, “Bad place. Bad people. You

Hughes? We have many

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

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 do understanding the

the newspaper archives,

search term… Sao Paulo organised crime… Then as

139,000, 000 results,

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

in another search. Names of criminal gangs sao

time, but some more

gang is enticing recruits

Evolution of the

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