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… the red-light district…

Nothing hangs together.

down to my empty coffee cup. “Mais

“Sim. Thank you.”

at my guide. “Senhor Hughes…” He stabs a

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

place very bad. Many bad men there.

“Woman? Que tipo de bad men and

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

“Sim,

imaginary cigarette and again he nods. Then I mime

closes it, then slaps it down on the table. “Bad place, Senhor. And bad men.” He wags a finger at me. “You no

bad woman too?

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

bad woman. What

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.

is sounding deeply

Juliana…

her name? What

stares at me

try again. “The bad woman… A mulher

shrugs. “Ninguém sabe.

does she

Again, that blank stare…

stand, raising my hand to my head… “Tall?” …

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

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

jabs fingers at places where ‘Nice turista man

Brazilian newspapers, or at least, their English editions. I can read Portuguese, but it doesn’t come so naturally as

newspaper archives, I know what I’m

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

results, starting

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

in another search. Names of

but some more useful

gang is

The Evolution of the Most Lethal Criminal

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