Richard

My intercom buzzes.

“Yes, Francis?”

“Mr Haswell, I have the police commissioner on for you.”

“Put him through, please…” The phone clicks… “Richard?”

“Will, good to hear from you. What can I do for you? Do you have any news?”

“I do, Richard, yes. But it’s not good news I’m afraid.”

Damn…

“Go on.”

“I’ve emailed you a report from the authorities in Brazil. Briefly, there was an explosion in a hotel room in São Paulo; a booby-trapped lavatory would you believe. It took out several rooms and there were a lot of casualties. Two bodies were taken from the room. One was a member of the hotel staff. The other was a guest. The passport identifies him as one Harry Hughes: English. But take a look at the photograph and tell me what you think.”

My mouth sours…

Christ…

If it is…

“Can you hold, Will, while I pull up the email.”

“No problem. Take your time.”

Tap… Tap… Tap… Click…

Password…

Scroll…

Click…

Crap!

I breathe in. Let out air.

“Yes, that’s him. He’s clever with the hair and the glasses. It’s quite subtle and you wouldn’t see it on a casual glance, but that’s him…”

“Richard?”

I

… Or Charlotte?

“Richard? Are you alright?”

might sound ridiculous. We know the man Klempner was in the past… But the courage he’s shown… The way he behaved when Charlotte was abducted… And when

What a waste…

would you like me to call by and tell Mitch myself? Give her the official

she deserves better than that. I’ll tell her. Or I’ll tell James and Michael, and get

do, you

“Thanks, Will.”

*****

is in his office next door to mine. He takes the

“James?”

eyes squeezing. “I

know that

It’s almost certainly down

least for a

with waiting and hoping. Could this be worse? At

all keep a closer eye on her?

thumbnail. “That might make her feel we’re spying on her. But we could make up her old room again, so it’s there

we go. Deliver the news face-to-face. I’ve already asked Francis to cancel appointments for both of

up. Eyes red-rimmed, he tugs his jacket straight. “You’re right. Time

*****

Klempner

the light flicks from dim to bright, and grunting, I raise a hand to shield my eyes for a few seconds. By the time I’m blinking

her usual bag, stuffed with God-knows-what, and as usual, colour-co-ordinated to her outfit. “Good afternoon, Larry. How are

tightly and the lipstick is too bright for her. Although

you wear sunglasses

fashion statement.” Her voice

on my fettered ankle, hands loosely clasped around my legs, I do shift a little, moving my weight from one side to the other. I’ve almost ceased to notice the cold striking up from the concrete, but it still rubs, being

The wig is black; much too dark for her complexion. Not that her complexion is visible, with her face plastered under a brown sludge that would be flattering on some young woman

I catch the miserable thing mid-air before it hit the deck but, despite

Lunch?

some fragrant dainty, then appears to realise I’ve

Still, I don’t move.

then, “If you eat that one now and

take a bite from the potato, chewing slowly to

“Enjoying that?” she says.

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