“I want to see the Delegado,” Miles stated, as a formal statement. “You just did. That was him.” The friendly Federalé continued to steer Miles towards the exit of The Federal Police Headquarters, Rio de Janiero, Brazil. “Remember. Don’t forget. Forty eight hours.” He waved cheerily and pushed Miles out into the esgoto of humanity that was the street. Bade him boa viagem. Dick had spent most of the day alone, in a windowless room, on a plastic chair, under a lightbulb, beside a water cooler. Infrequently the door would open and a variety of men, all obvious police officers, would look at him for longer or shorter intervals, but mainly he had just been sitting. Months, perhaps years before, Miles had overstayed his visa. Now he needed to become legal. In pursuance of such status,
... read more
