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?”

Charlotte was abducted… And when he knew there was a threat to Mitch. And James. There was

What a waste…

me to call

tell James and Michael, and get one of them to break it to

can do, you know where to

“Thanks, Will.”

*****

door to mine. He takes

“James?”

bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing. “I feel terrible. This is all my

know that for

it ninety-nine per cent for sure. I gave Juliana the wedge to crack his defences. It’s almost certainly down to

for a while. After

Could this be worse? At least it’s closure and she

into the house? So we can all keep a closer eye on her? Elizabeth and Charlotte may well

at a thumbnail. “That might make her feel we’re spying on her. But we could make up

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

his jacket straight. “You’re right. Time to face the

*****

Klempner

eyes for

usual,

too tightly and the lipstick is too

you wear sunglasses

a fashion statement.” Her voice is

relieve the strain 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

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

me. On auto-pilot, I catch the miserable thing

Lunch?

takes the usual paper packet from her lunch box, unwrapping some fragrant dainty, then appears to realise I’ve

Still, I don’t move.

you eat that one now and behave yourself,

a bite from the potato, chewing slowly to convince

“Enjoying that?” she says.

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