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 tell

… Or Charlotte?

“Richard? Are you alright?”

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 he knew there was a threat to Mitch. And James. There was a real human inside there somewhere, fighting to get out. And now… his chances

What a waste…

like me to call by and tell Mitch myself? Give her

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

If there’s anything I can do, you know where to find

“Thanks, Will.”

*****

is in his office next door to

“James?”

his nose, eyes squeezing. “I feel

don’t know

defences. It’s almost certainly down to me.” He breathes in, then out again.

we shouldn’t tell her. At least for a while.

waiting and hoping. Could this be worse? At least it’s

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

feel we’re spying on her. But we could make up her old room again, so it’s there as an

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

jacket straight. “You’re

*****

Klempner

for a few seconds. By the time I’m

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

very gaudy, very Latin. The dress fits too tightly and the lipstick is

you

statement.” Her voice is

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 in

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

at me. On auto-pilot, I catch the miserable thing mid-air before it hit the deck

Lunch?

packet from her lunch box, unwrapping some fragrant dainty, then appears to realise I’ve not moved. She nods down to the

Still, I don’t move.

“If you eat that one now and

but common sense beats it 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 is that my stomach is coming

“Enjoying that?” she says.

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