In the centre of Rio, Cinelândia square was the bustling heartbeat of the city’s urban life. Removed from the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema – and the sun-worshippers who lazed upon their sands – here the streets were thronged with businessmen and professionals. The towering skyscrapers obscured everything but the distinctive hump of Pão de Açúcar – Sugarloaf Mountain. From the middle of Cinelândia square, grand buildings were visible in every direction: the Municipal Theatre, the Brazilian National Library – and the council meeting hall.
Given the number of rallies and demonstrations that took place in the square, on any particular day it wasn’t unusual to see politicians making public speeches there. That morning, Councillor Jorge Cruz had taken up a position on the steps of the council hall and was in the middle of a thunderous denunciation of the favela gangs. At the back of the massed ranks of bored reporters and casual bystanders, a teenage boy was watching Cruz speak. Luiz had been waiting in the square for this moment since dawn, his heart pounding and the gun’s cold metal pressing against his skin with a horrible insistence.
After the Comando Negro’s jubilation inside the police warehouse, the policeman’s parting warning had dampened the mood on the journey home. As Angel drove the pickup truck silently back to Santa Marta, Livio leaned over towards Luiz and asked in a low whisper, ‘Have you seen CORE raid a favela before?’
Luiz shook his head.
‘Count yourself lucky. They’re mean bastards. They come in all guns blazing and they shoot to kill.’
‘Double the lookouts at the boca,’ Angel said from the driver’s seat. ‘We’ll see them coming. If they want a fire-fight, they’ll get one. They don’t know Santa Marta like we do.’
But for all the dono’s defiant words, there was an under-current of uncertainty in Angel’s voice. What with the Compadres, Quarto Comando and now CORE circling around Santa Marta, it was impossible to escape the feeling of a trap closing around them. It was at that moment that Luiz had realized what he had to do. He had to find the Doctor before the Comando Negro came under attack – which meant he had to find Councillor Jorge Cruz.
The next morning he had risen before the sun, slipping out past the boca and down into the city. He headed straight for Cinelândia – an area his parents had spent a great deal of time in, especially during their own investigations into Councillor Cruz. Now Luiz was following in their footsteps, only he was armed. If he had to threaten Cruz to get the truth out of him, then he would do so.
The crowd burst into applause as Cruz’s speech came to its resounding conclusion. The councillor waved, before moving back towards the council hall’s entrance. Making to go after him, Luiz was suddenly aware of a hand on his arm.
‘Excuse me, son?’
A man was looking down at him. Although he was dressed casually, an earpiece wire was curling down the back of his neck and his free hand was resting on a bulky shape inside his jacket.
‘Sorry,’ Luiz muttered hurriedly. ‘Gotta run.’
The man didn’t let go. He smiled. ‘What’s the rush?’
Luiz made to break away.
‘Look out – he’s armed!’ a voice cried out.
A woman next to Luiz screamed loudly and turned to flee. Before he could follow suit, a burly arm snaked around Luiz’s neck, grabbing it in a sleeper hold. Caught off guard, Luiz flailed his arms in an attempt to free himself, but the man’s grip was as tight as a vice. Black spots began to appear in front of Luiz’s eyes. The last thing he saw before he passed out was a scrum of men descending upon him.
When he came to, he found himself lying down in a cramped space, his knees tucked up underneath his chin. There was a blindfold over his eyes and his hands were cuffed behind his back. His gun was gone. A loud sound was growling very close to his head – groggily, Luiz realized it was an engine. He was in the boot of a car. Trapped, there was nothing he could do but wait, and try to fight the tide of panic rising within him.
After about half an hour, the car slowed. He heard the sound of an electronic beeping and then the car purred up a gravel driveway. As the boot was popped open, strong hands hauled Luiz to his feet. Still blindfolded, he was pushed along the driveway, his feet crunching on the gravel. Luiz heard a latch click open and his feet felt smooth paving stones beneath them. Somewhere in the distance, waves were crashing against the shoreline.
Luiz was pushed abruptly down into a seat, his hands still cuffed impotently behind his back. The blindfold was torn from his eyes, exposing a world of piercing bright sunlight. He looked around, blinking.
He was sitting at a poolside table at the rear of a luxurious, two-storey villa. Over his shoulder, a deserted strip of beach ran down to the foaming breakers at the water’s edge. Luiz didn’t recognize the coastline, couldn’t even be sure whether he was still in Rio. He was aware that a man was standing behind him: the bodyguard with the earpiece from the square. On the other side of the pool, a woman in a tiny blue bikini was stretched out on a towel, tinny music blaring from her headphones. But it was the person sitting opposite Luiz who grabbed his attention.
Across the table, Councillor Jorge Cruz was hungrily attacking a plate of pork ribs, his mouth ringed with sauce. Having changed out of his suit, he was now clad in a pair of khaki shorts and a Lacoste polo shirt, which was stained with sweat not only under the armpits but also beneath a sizeable pair of man-breasts. Cruz ate noisily, tearing the meat from the bone with his teeth like a dog. With a sinking heart, Luiz saw that his Sig Sauer 226 was lying on the table next to the councillor.
Luiz sat in silence until the councillor pushed his plate away, finally sated. Cruz took a deep gulp from a glass of cold beer and then asked casually, ‘So who sent you?’
‘What?’ said Luiz, confused.
The councillor made a signal and Luiz received a ringing blow to the back of the head from the bodyguard behind him. He rocked forward in his seat, feeling nauseous from the pain. Cruz gave him a hard look.
‘We’ll try that again. Who sent you?’
‘No one sent me, I swear!’ Luiz shouted. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’
Cruz sighed and nodded again at his bodyguard. Another thundering blow landed on the back of Luiz’s head. Thankfully, he was still feeling numb from the first blow, though even that fact couldn’t entirely deaden the sting.
‘Carlos can do this all day, you know,’ Cruz continued. ‘He doesn’t tire easily.’
‘But I’m telling you the truth!’ Luiz protested.
Cruz shook his head. ‘You kids. You’re all as dumb as each other. Do you know how many death threats I’ve received? Did you think you could just turn up to one of my speeches with a gun stuffed into your shorts and no one would notice?’ He pointedly tapped Luiz’s Sig Sauer. ‘Didn’t you realize that my men are always looking out for little sewer rats like you who want to take potshots at me?’
Seeing the stubborn look on Luiz’s face, Cruz glanced up at his bodyguard.
‘I think you can remove the handcuffs, Carlos. If the little rat tries anything, shoot him in the back of the head.’
The man behind Luiz reached down and brusquely unlocked the handcuffs. With his hands freed, Luiz gingerly massaged the back of his head and neck, surreptitiously taking hold of his GPS crucifix and pressing the ends of the horizontal beam together. Richard Madison had always sworn that Trojan could track down the distress signal no matter where it was sent from. Luiz offered up a silent prayer that the Brit had been telling the truth.
‘You can’t hurt me,’ he said, trying to sound braver than he felt. ‘As soon as you turn me over to the police I’m going to tell them all about you.’
‘Really?’ Cruz raised a bushy eyebrow. ‘And what exactly are you going to say?’
‘I’ll tell them I know exactly who you are!’ Luiz blurted out. ‘You’re the Doctor!’
Cruz paused for a second, then burst into laughter.
‘I’m the Doctor? You stupid kid!’
‘Don’t try and deny it,’ Luiz said fiercely. ‘You met Angel in the Casa Bahia – I saw you!’
Cruz wiped his sticky fingers on a napkin before tossing it to one side. ‘You might well have seen me in the Casa Bahia, but I wasn’t meeting that hoodlum.’
‘But you know who Angel is.’
‘I make it my business to know all about the Comando Negro. I’d be the last person who’d deal with them, though. At this rate, they’re going to screw up everything.’
Luiz rubbed the back of his head again, a suspicious look on his face. ‘What do you mean?’
‘For years I’ve had a certain… vested interest in Santa Marta,’ Cruz said. ‘One that doesn’t fit in very well with scum like you running around pushing drugs and killing each other.’
‘What sort of interest?’
‘Over time I’ve managed to acquire some land in that particular favela for a very reasonable rate.’
Luiz thought back to his parents’ investigations into Cruz; their suspicions of dodgy land deals. Slowly things began to fall into place.
‘That’s why you hate the Comando Negro! You want the favela for yourself!’
‘Smart kid. Right now the land I own is worthless. But if the police take out the Comando Negro, maybe raze the favela to the ground while they’re at it, then I can start to transform Santa Marta. In a few years’ time, I’ll be selling luxury apartments boasting the best views of Rio. It’ll be like sitting on a goldmine.’
Luiz’s head spun as he tried to take it all in. ‘But then, if you’re not the Doctor – who is?’
The councillor chuckled, sitting back in his seat. ‘You really don’t get it, do you?’ He leaned forward. ‘Angel’s the Doctor.’
‘That’s impossible!’ Luiz protested. ‘I heard Angel talking to the Doctor on the phone!’
‘Really? You heard the Doctor’s voice?’
Luiz faltered. ‘No, but… he didn’t know I was there!’
Cruz chuckled thickly. ‘Or at least that’s what he wanted you to think. Mouthy kid like you, that would be perfect. I’ve got to hand it to Angel – he ain’t so dumb for a favela kid. He should forget all this gang bullshit and go into politics.’
Luiz sat stunned. He had been so sure that there was a Doctor – it couldn’t be Angel. Could it?
‘Why?’ he said finally.
‘All these gangs are looking for an edge over one another. What better than some kind of super-villain with money, power and knowledge? Not just another snot-nosed favela thug?’
‘I don’t care what you say,’ Luiz blustered. ‘Even if you’re not the Doctor, you’re still a crook. I’m going to make sure everyone finds out what you’re up to.’
Cruz laughed. ‘And what makes you think you’re going to live long enough to tell anyone anything?’
‘You can’t kill me!’
‘I’m a powerful and respected local figure. You’re a piece of shit from the favelas. You really think I’m going to let you get in the way?’ Cruz rose to his feet. ‘Carlos, could you take care of our little friend here please?’
Before Luiz could react, there was a movement from inside the villa. A glass door slid open and a woman stepped smoothly down on to the patio.
It was Valerie Singer.