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…

end of town… the red-light

Nothing hangs together.

down to

“Sim. Thank you.”

Hughes…” He stabs a finger at my page. “You not go this place. Is

that I ‘can’t

place very bad. Many bad men there. And badder

prick. “Woman? Que tipo de bad

his arms out in circles all around… “…all bad place. Much…” He falters then holds out two fingers making a Bang Bang gesture… “And much…” Invisible knife gripped in his hand,

I

nods vigorously. “Sim, muita violência. Muito

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

closer yet. “…And the womans para prostitutas.” He takes the book from me, closes it, then slaps it down on the table. “Bad

said bad woman too? A

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

bad woman.

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 prostitute. She has man. Then other man. And first man,

is sounding

Juliana…

woman, her name? What

at

try again. “The bad woman… A

upheld, he shrugs. “Ninguém sabe. Ela é um

What does she look

Again, that blank stare…

“Tall?” … Then lower… “Short? Alta? Baixo? Loiras?

waves a forefinger at me, then at my city guide, repeating, “Bad place. Bad people. You not go there. I show you nice place for nice English turista man.

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

jabs fingers at places where

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

newspaper archives,

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

139,000, 000 results,

Hmmm…

Narrow it down…

another search. Names of criminal

but some more

gang is enticing recruits with

The Evolution of the Most Lethal Criminal Organization

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