Klempner

A dozen of them…

Or more.

I know where to find at least one of Juliana’s heavies. So I might as well reduce the numbers a bit…

Improve the odds.

And oddly, I find I have another motive.

The things we learn about ourselves…

I realise that the idea of coercing the old man’s hard-earned cash away from him offends me.

That’s new…

Wonder how much they’ve had off him over the years…?

Why do they call it ‘Protection’?

Call it what it is…

Extorting money with menaces…

is liable to turn up at about the same time as on previous occasions. After all, he wants his clientele to know when to have the money available for pillage and

me what I want:

delivered it to Juliana, or at least to the poor sap whose arm she was hanging on. I’m intending a slightly different script for our

if he follows the same routine with Antonio. He does, except that

the rigours of the hot day, he makes for the

Yup…

Same routine…

Same targets…

even after the events that befell his comrade-in-arms, he’s not paying attention to what’s going on around

much the better for

one bar, restaurant and store after another, exactly the same routine as when I followed him on the first

down an alley: a nice quiet… nay,

That will do nicely…

or to

per cent off the top

shufti

cans and not much more. Wonder Boy’s standing just beyond the cans with his back to

sprint and he doesn’t even hear me until I’m almost on top of him. When he does register I’m there, he’s still

pauses, head cocked, face screwed up, obviously recognising me, but unsure

pupils are huge, dilated well beyond what

Does he ever learn?

Too late now…

grins, jabbing vee’d fingers towards his eyes, then back at me. “Eu vejo você, Senhor Klempner.” And he reaches for something inside

slash out, first at the reaching hand, then across his throat. He drops with barely a sound, his cock still hanging out of his pants, clutching at his throat

to the alley entrance, I wait until he stills. Slit throats are a messy business and it’s broad

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