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

a sense of power

playing cat

officer maybe? Who recognised me at

It’s possible.

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

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

Maybe they all do.

she put the word out

That seems more likely.

going to the restaurant… hoping to spot my quarry… Instead, they spotted me. She knew I’d

makes

I think…

surface, I’m picking at the

Does it add up?

Really?

What’s missing?

into a gang

Brazil…

‘Traditional’ values…

to find a woman heading

ever find women in that

the man at the top and get control of

Femme fatale…

Wonder who he is?

Poor bastard…

life-expectancy

who I am… If Juliana has them all reeled

visit to Juliana’s apartment. The coffee’s dreadful stuff, but at least the caffeine hit does its work. My

How many were there?

an

side. But smiling, accusing eyes still stare

What now?

Fade into the background?

Disappear?

How?

ID. Contact Dakho and get him to fit me out with the

fucking phone

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

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