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…

our Juliana likes her

a sense of power

playing cat

customs officer maybe? Who recognised

It’s possible.

my face had flagged up any warning signals, ‘the system’ would have taken me

they did simply spot me at Antonio’s? Or trace me back to the bar after I took out their heavy.

Maybe they all do.

she put the

That seems more likely.

me. She knew I’d turn up at some point, so of course, her thugs would know what

makes much more

I think…

surface, I’m

Does it add up?

Really?

What’s missing?

does she fit into a

Brazil…

‘Traditional’ values…

you’d expect to find a woman

ever find women in that kind of

the top and get control of him. That would tie in with what she’s

Femme fatale…

Wonder who he is?

Poor bastard…

life-expectancy down

the meantime, if they all know who I am… If Juliana has them all reeled in on her quest for

coffee’s dreadful stuff, but at least the caffeine

How many were there?

And an uncertain number

accusing eyes still stare out at me. After a moment, I turn the paper over,

What now?

Fade into the background?

Disappear?

How?

and get him to

that fucking

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

Comments ()

0/255