Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 32

Richard NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

I turn the wheel, swing through the gates. “I know that it’s only an illusion, but it feels good to get back to something like normal life, doesn’t it. Just doing a day’s work. Driving home.”

Gravel crunches under the tires as we pull up. James clicks his tongue. “You’re not wrong there.” He rubs a forefinger over the top of his nose. “I’ll admit, I was worried about the effect the business with Klempner was going to have on Charlotte. All the forward progress the three of us made since we first met. It was feeling as though everything was going to be blown out of the water… Ahhh… Michael must be there ahead of us. The lights are on.”

“He’s left the door standing open too,” says James. “It’ll be letting the weather right through the house. Might as well not bother with the damn heating.”

We step inside. James closes the door behind us with a bang. As it slams, a voice drifts down the hall.

“James, is that you?”

Together, we halt in mid-stride. “That wasn’t Michael’s voice,” I say.

“It sounded like Stanton,” mutters James. “What the hell would he be doing here with no-one else around?”

I mutter back. “Good question.” Then more loudly, “Will? Is that you? Where are you?”

“Richard? I’m in the lounge.” There’s a touch of panic in his voice. “And hurry the fuck up, will you.”

What the hell?

James and I exchange glances. Setting briefcases on the hall table, we enter the lounge together…

… to find Will pressed back into the far corner of the room.

My old friend stands, bolt upright, arms folded up and well out of the way, head pulled back. His eyes are rimmed white against the coffee of his skin. To one side, he’s hemmed in by a dresser. To the other, a table blocks his exit. His face lights up as we enter. The reason for the odd posture lies close by his feet.

Head resting on outstretched paws, apparently relaxed, Bear is doing his best impression of a fur rug, if rugs emanated a low continuous rumble, something along the lines of distant thunder.

Will shifts and the rumble grows louder, the thunderstorm rolling overhead. A ridge of fur rises between Bear’s shoulders and Will freezes once more. “Can you call your dog off, please.”

James’ face cracks. He spins, sucking in his cheeks, then straightens his face and turns back. “Bear…” He snaps his fingers. “C’mon Bear. It’s fine.”

The huge dog swings his head around, looking over one shoulder, disbelief radiating from every hair.

James strides forward, scratches him behind the ears. “It’s alright, Bear. C’mon, Good boy. The Two- Legs have come home now. You’re off-duty.”

Bear rumbles another low threat towards our police commissioner, then slowly, reluctantly, stands and pads away. Flopping down by the hearth, he angles himself to watch the intruder.

Will straightens up, tugs down his jacket. “That’s one helluvan animal you’ve got there. Could be viewed as dangerous.”

James cocks a brow. “Did he do you any actual injury?”

“No, but he wasn’t going to let me move.”

James chuckles. “Then, he was just doing his job, wasn’t he. Keeping the intruder under control until the return of the pack leader.”

“And you’re the pack leader?”

“In fact, no. From Bear’s point of view, I’d say that’s Klempner. But since he’s not here…”

Will coughs. “It’s Klempner I’m here about.”

“The information he requested?”

“That’s right.” Will slants a cautious glance across to Bear, still watching him with a baleful glare, then lays a file on the table, pulling out a variety of documents. “Could you call Hickman in, please. Doubtless, he can get the information back where it’s needed.”

“That may not, in fact, be the case, but I’ll call him.” James takes out his mobile, taps in then talks quietly into it.

Will turns to me. “What did he mean? May not be the case?”

“We have lost contact with Klempner. Or at least, Hickman has, and he was the point of contact.”

“And he’s not been in touch with anyone else?”

“No.”

Will frowns. “I hardly dare say it, but I find myself concerned for him.”

*****

Hickman strolls in, all nonchalance. He nods politely. “Commissioner? You have something for me?”

“I do. Is it still the case that you are out of contact with Klempner?”

Hickman’s face falls. “I’m afraid so.”

“Given what I have learned, that’s not reassuring.”

Will fans a handful of prints across the table, the photos Klempner asked to be ID’d. “I believe I have the information your employer requested. All the men in the photos you provided except two are known criminals. However…” He stabs a finger down on one image. “… This individual is one Jose Santos...”

Hickman nods as Will speaks, jotting notes on a pad…

“… Santos is well-known to the Brazilian authorities and the only reason he is still breathing free air is that whenever any attempt has been made to arrest him and to get him… and those he works with… into court… witnesses dry up, die or simply disappear. As do jurors and even judges… “

He pauses to let his words sink in, then continues. “Add to that, the Brazilian police system is rife with corruption, the justice system is slow, bureaucratic and… let us say, unpredictable… Thus far, all attempts to bring this man and his cohorts to justice have been unsuccessful.” He sucks air between his teeth. “Much as it pains me to say this, I suspect Larry Klempner’s methods may be appropriate in this case.”

“What exactly is Santos wanted for?” I ask.

“You name it…” Will heaves his huge shoulders, blowing air. “Klempner’s picked out the group through Racketeering and Protection, but Santos is also involved in Vice and Trafficking. Given that Klempner is displaying interest in him, I don’t doubt he has involvement in trafficked individuals who in the end, we find here.”

Richard folds arms. “Who are these associates he works with?”

Will clucks, producing another document. “Ah, I thought that would be next. Now comes the interesting part. Brazil as a whole has a historical problem with crime, corruption and all that goes with it. In the thirty years leading up to 2010, there were a million homicides in the country…

“On the other hand, São Paulo specifically, had been doing rather well with its clean-up operation for the previous ten or twenty years. Violent crime had dropped dramatically and the homicide rate, in particular, plummeted from a high of 52 per 100,000 Paulistanos in 1999 to only 6 per 100,000. However…” He brandishes a forefinger… “All that began to change two years ago…

“Perhaps the authorities simply let their guard slip, but the organised crime reared its head again in the form of rivals gangs competing for the opportunities available in the country. Usually, they were headed by men who had been long-term career criminals and simply slipped the justice net over the years. But also, there were some new faces appearing.

“At first, there were perhaps a dozen such gangs…” He rocks his hand back and forth.

“Why the doubt over the numbers?” asks Richard.

“Because the identities of the gangs and their members are slippery, at least to outsiders. Some of the smaller groups amalgamated through the gang leader falling to assassination and the one group being absorbed into the other. This happened at least three times that we know of.

“In other cases, it was outright gang warfare and the wholesale murder of the members and their families…”

“This is, as you say, interesting,” says Michael, “but what does it have to do with Klempner?”

“I’m coming to that,” says Will. “Bear with me. I should say by the way, that my source documents are in Portuguese, so these are translations…”

“I assume…” says Richard, “… that all this is coming around to our Juliana’s involvement somewhere? She’s been assassinating gang members?”

Will sniffs. “You could argue that, yes. However, our lady doesn’t seem to worry about collateral damage. The explosion that wiped out most of the Facas gang… The ‘Knives’ as they called themselves… resulted from an explosive device placed in a family restaurant. As well as the gang members themselves, the incident resulted in the deaths of the restaurant owner and his wife along with other, perfectly innocent bystanders.

“The Irmandade de Sangue… the Blood Brotherhood… lived up to their name when they were gunned down while attending mass, along with numerous other members of the congregation. There have been other cases.”

“Now… these events occurred about two years ago. There was a drastic thinning of the various criminal enterprises in the area and it left only three major powers, each with control of an area of São Paulo, and competing to take over what they could of their rivals… Os Dragões. The Dragons… As Erva-mouras, The Nightshades… And Os Lobos, The Wolves…

“The Dragons were headed by Valente Ennes. There was also a Senhora Ennes, apparently rather a sweet soul who was somewhat in awe of her husband, and also apparently, in denial concerning his character and activities. Among the activities she held a blind eye to was his constant philandering. He had a string of mistresses behind him and the most recent model was a woman half his wife’s age whose main interest in Ennes would seem to have been his wallet. Mrs Ennes died in a car accident about two years ago and, apparently by coincidence, the mistress also died about a week later showing all the signs of alkaloid poisoning…”

“Showing the signs of?” Richard frowns. “Surely there would have been an autopsy under those conditions?”

“No,” says Will. “The body was cremated within a day.”

“So… Ennes himself suspected of murdering his wife and his mistress?”

Will nods. “That was the original thought but… keep bearing with me… Almost before the smoke cleared from the cremation, Ennes installed a new mistress as head of his household…” He slips a sheet from his wad, a scanned copy of a newspaper cutting, passing it across to me. “Here’s a photo of the happy couple…”

The quality isn’t good, but under the dress, the veil, the red hair and the heavy make-up is a familiar face.

“Juliana again? Walking down the aisle?”

“That’s right. Now known as Solana. Ennes married her within days.”

“Didn’t take out much time to grieve then?” comments Michael.

“No, he didn’t. Not that it made much difference to him. Ennes himself was dead within the month, also from alkaloid poisoning.”

Michael rubs his nose. “She’s consistent, isn’t she.”

“Cui bono?” says Richard. “Who benefited from his death? The brand new Mrs Ennes, I assume?”

“In fact, no,” says Will. “The…” … He makes air commas… “… coincidence of so many deaths was apparently too much for even the most hardened of Ennes’ associates and the new Senhora Ennes had to run for it. But not before she’d already emptied several bank accounts…

“Two days later, with the head members of Os Dragões gathered together, presumably to discuss what their next move was, they came under attack by Os Lobos, led by Roberto Carreira, another long-term

criminal, known to deal in drugs and trafficked persons. The Dragons were wiped out almost to a man. Now…” Will reaches for another item from his documents. “This photo was taken by long-range police camera only three days after that. Look at the woman on Carreira’s arm.”

We pass around the image. By now, we know what to expect, although this time, our old friend Juliana is brunette.

“So, Juliana is… what? Targetting the traffickers and professional criminals. Working her way through them a piece at a time?”

“It would seem that way,” says Will.

“It sounds,” says Richard, “as though she’s setting out to do much the same as Klempner was in Thailand. Take out the trafficking gangs.”

Michael heaves air. “Perhaps, but on what we’ve heard, the motivation is very different. Klempner was aiming, and succeeding at, a genuine clean-up. And for himself, I’d say seeking a kind of absolution. Juliana is putting herself at the top of the tree and simply pruning out the competition.”

“And perhaps also,” says Will, “taking revenge on the kind of men who enslaved her in the first place.”

“Which I suppose,” I say, “begs the question of what exactly she has in mind for the actual man who enslaved her.”

*****