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?”

not. It 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

What a waste…

would you like me to call by and tell Mitch

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

do, you know where to

“Thanks, Will.”

*****

is in his office next door to

“James?”

his nose, eyes squeezing. “I feel

know

sure. I gave Juliana the wedge to crack his defences. It’s almost certainly down to me.” He breathes in, then out again. “No. The question is, how do I tell

her. At least for

be worse? At least it’s closure and

her back into the house? So we can all keep a

might make her feel we’re spying on her. But we could make up her old

the news face-to-face. I’ve already asked Francis to

his jacket straight.

*****

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 back to normality, the click-click of stiletto heels

as usual, colour-co-ordinated to her outfit. “Good afternoon,

fits too tightly and the lipstick is too bright for her. Although that

you wear

fashion statement.” Her voice is

moving my weight from one side to the

her complexion. Not that her complexion is visible, 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 grotesque on Juliana. A scarlet hibiscus set in

On auto-pilot, I catch the miserable thing mid-air before it hit the deck but, despite the clenching in my gut,

Lunch?

to realise I’ve not moved. She nods

Still, I don’t move.

eat that one now and behave yourself, I’ll give you another before I

over the head. I take a bite from the potato, chewing slowly to convince my stomach it’s getting a good meal. What’s galling

“Enjoying that?” she says.

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