Capital Punishment Read Online Free PDF

time he’d found himself in this situation, he’d tried to analyse what was driving him across the line. He knew it was something to do with his father, what his father had done, but there was always a gap, an abyss over which the logic could never leap.
    ‘What about access to Diogo Chaves and ... method?’ said Boxer. ‘I’m not exactly prepared.’
    Dias left the room. Boxer turned to see his reflection in the window. As always, he couldn’t quite believe what was happening to him, but was powerless to stop it. He switched his mind into professional mode as Dias returned with a roll of plans, a small box and a briefcase that had weight.
    ‘These are the plans to Diogo Chaves’ apartment,’ said Dias, enthused by his project, unrolling the plans and then flicking open the box. ‘This is the key to the building and this is the key to his apartment.’
    ‘Your security woman, Cristina?’
    ‘She’s very thorough. Chaves is a creature of habit. He goes drinking every Friday and Saturday night in a Brazilian bar called Ipanema, on Rua do Bojador on the river front. He stays until late, three in the morning usually, and he walks back along the river to his apartment. He never gets up before midday at the weekends.’
    ‘Photo?’
    ‘This is a recent photo taken in the café underneath his apartment,’ said Dias.
    ‘Are you expecting me to do this
tonight
, Bruno?’
    ‘Now that your daughter’s not with you, I was thinking ... why not?’ said Dias. ‘Tonight, or tomorrow night?’
    ‘No weapon.’
    Dias opened the briefcase, took out a box, which held a Glock 17 and an AAC Evolution 9mm suppressor.
    ‘I understand that this is one of the handguns used by the British police’s authorised firearms officers,’ said Dias. ‘You don’t have to use it, but I’m sure it will get Diogo Chaves’ attention if you do.’
    ‘Let me look at the plans again. I don’t want to take those with me.’
    Boxer memorised the layout, pocketed the keys.
    ‘I’ll do a recce tonight,’ said Boxer. ‘Check him out in the Ipanema, see how he behaves.’
    ‘I hope I didn’t ruin your weekend.’
    ‘That’s already ruined.’
    They walked to the door, Boxer with the briefcase.
    ‘Is there anything you want me to bring ... from Chaves?’ asked Boxer.
    ‘No, nothing physical,’ said Dias. ‘But you might ask him why he had to ruin my daughter’s life.’
     
    Flat One, 14 Lavender Grove, Dalston, London E8, in the Borough of Hackney, was silent until a key entered the lock, the door opened and a man dressed in black clicked on his headlamp and disabled the alarm. The flat was warm after the chill of subzero outside. The man moved quickly to the bedroom at the back.
    The light from his headlamp wandered over some photographs on the wall and stopped at an old movie poster. The light travelled from the face, down the lithe body of a handsome Indian man in a white shirt and trousers, teeth to match, charisma blasting from every pore, with eyes staring down the sight of a revolver held out in front of him. His stage name, Anadi Kapoor, was emblazoned beneath.
    The intruder moved in closer, focusing the light on a shot alongside of the same man, but taken twenty years later in his early fifties. His hair was still black but the body had thickened and was now encased in an expensive grey suit, open white shirt, gold chain around the neck. Despite gravity’s terrible work, the face was still handsome, the charisma intact and the eyes still had it, which was why, but maybe not the only why, holding onto his arm was a stunning Indian woman three inches taller. She was dressed in an ivory blouse, with the tops of her breasts exposed, a short skirt and high heels that accentuated the length of her slim legs. In front of them were two young children, who stared ahead like two little sphinxes.
    This same man appeared in another photo wearing a DJ, but this time accompanied by a white woman with long, dark, wavy hair, rather