A cheap hotel room, a miserable night, and the first poor cup of coffee I’ve had in this São Paulo:

A face stares out at me from the morning newspaper: a smiling boy, perhaps a school photograph, posted under a grim headline

Casualties are mounting in the aftermath of the explosion…

My eyes follow the text, but as I reach the end of the column, I realise I don’t know what it said…

Rodrigo… The hotel boy who served my breakfast each morning. So helpful to the nice cavalheiro inglês who sometimes tipped him, as much for the smile as for good service. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen.

And now dead because some vengeful little bitch missed her target.

I had to grow up quick at that age…

He never will…

Did she miss her target?

Or was it all part of some plan to implicate me?

Lawrence Klempner… Trafficker, murderer, and guilty of a thousand sins, now wanted for terrorism…

?

Who knows? I’m getting beyond guessing how much mayhem Juliana is willing to unleash in her crusade against me.

How did she find me?

She knows I’m here…

She knew where I was…

So… why take so long about showing her hand?

How did she find me?

And when?

As I entered the country?

Three weeks ago…

Juliana likes

her a sense of power

playing cat

maybe? Who recognised me at

It’s possible.

any warning signals, ‘the system’ would have taken me in, not some

to the bar after I took out their heavy. And he knew who I was when

Maybe they all do.

she put the word

That seems more likely.

restaurant… hoping to spot my quarry… Instead, they spotted me. She knew I’d turn up at some point, so of course,

all makes much more

I think…

I’m picking at

Does it add up?

Really?

What’s missing?

she fit into a gang

Brazil…

‘Traditional’ values…

kind of place you’d expect to find

you ever find women in that kind

the top and get

Femme fatale…

Wonder who he is?

Poor bastard…

life-expectancy down

know who I am… If Juliana has them all reeled in

coffee’s dreadful stuff, but at least the caffeine hit does its work. My mind

How many were there?

certainly. And an uncertain

smiling, accusing eyes still stare out at

What now?

Fade into the background?

Disappear?

How?

Contact Dakho and get him to fit me out

fucking

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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