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?”

do I

… Or Charlotte?

“Richard? Are you alright?”

courage he’s shown… The way he behaved when Charlotte was abducted… And when he knew there was a threat to Mitch. And James. There was a real human inside there somewhere, fighting to get out. And now…

What a waste…

call by and tell Mitch myself? Give her

I’ll tell James and Michael, and get one of them

anything I can do, you know where to

“Thanks, Will.”

*****

in his office next door to mine. He

“James?”

the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing. “I

know

I gave Juliana the wedge to crack his defences. It’s almost certainly down to me.” He breathes

tell her. At least for a while.

worse? At least it’s closure and she knows what she’s dealing

all keep a closer eye

on her. But we could make up her

Deliver the news face-to-face. I’ve

up. Eyes red-rimmed, he tugs his jacket

*****

Klempner

hand to shield my eyes for a few seconds.

has her usual bag, stuffed with God-knows-what, and as usual, colour-co-ordinated to her outfit.

today; very gaudy, very Latin. The dress fits too tightly and the lipstick is too bright for her. Although that might not

do you wear

fashion statement.” Her

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 in contact with

her face plastered under a brown sludge that would be flattering on some young woman of genuine Latino descent, but which simply looks unsubtle, almost

catch the

Lunch?

takes the usual paper packet from her lunch box, unwrapping some fragrant dainty, then appears to realise I’ve not moved. She nods down to the potato. “Go on. Eat it.

Still, I don’t move.

that one now and

a bite from the potato, chewing slowly to convince

“Enjoying that?” she says.

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