Free Fiduciary Duty by Tim Michaels

in love with that I’d ever been. The Rio that most tourists see is the so-called “Zonal Sul” or “South Zone,” and within that, the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema. Both are happening places, but I prefer the Botafogo and Flamengo neighborhoods just a bit further northish along the inside of the bay. They’re less exciting and more livable.
    I found an apartment two blocks from the beach in Botafogo and rented it until the second of December, the day I was booked on a flight back to Miami. The first eight days were a great vacation. Every morning I ran from Botafogo beach all the way up to the edge of the Santos Dumont airport and back. Then I’d have a coconut. Vendors will cut the top off a green coconut and stick a straw in it, and there’s no better drink after a long jog. Later in the day I’d have a healthy lunch. In the afternoons I’d try to get into a pickup soccer game in one of the soccer fields near the water on Flamengo beach. After that, I’d walk into one of the city’s numerous juice bars for a healthy drink.
    I also enjoyed watching the kids learning how to play soccer, some of them only a few years older than Jeremy. Jeremy would really have enjoyed being there. H and I used to comment, somewhat seriously, that he was a precocious budding soccer player as he started kicking around a little beach ball at 13 months. By a year and a half he even seemed to have control of the ball. I kept mental notes while watching the kids take their lessons, tips that I could pass on to him as he got older.
    On Saturday, the day before the race, I did some touristy things. I saw the Corcovado, the statue of the Christ the Redeemer that stands over the city. In the early evening I went up the Pão de Açucar, the Sugarloaf Mountain overlooking Guanabara bay. Getting to the top of the Sugarloaf Mountain requires taking two separate cable cars. I wondered whether Jeremy would have enjoyed the ride up.
    On Sunday, I watched part of the Formula One race. I was looking to see if I could catch a glimpse of the Prince. I never did, but then I couldn’t watch more than about thirty minutes of the race. It was incredibly boring watching the cars go around the same track over and over. Not as boring as NASCAR where the track was just one big circle, but boring nevertheless.
    While the race was still going on, I left the hotel. Before I went, I put my wallet and all identifying papers in the safe in my room. Then I caught a bus to Taubaté, a city of about a quarter million people. From there, I took another bus to Pedra de Atiradeira. In the early evening, Francisco Fernandez, looking a bit bewildered at the rather un-cosmopolitan nature of his surroundings, checked into a small, nondescript hotel. He paid cash.

Chapter 9. Killing Time
    I got up at 4:30 in the morning and Fernandez checked out of the hotel at 5:00. It was almost false dawn as Fernandez set out on the hike to the farm Lincoln do Nascimento had rented. Unlike Pedro, Fernandez had come prepared. In addition to his overnight bag, I had three sandwiches, a few candy bars, a bag of chips and some paçoca. The latter, a sweet and salty mix of pulverized peanuts, cassava flour and sugar, was a surprising choice for Fernandez to pack, being a staple for poor people in certain parts of the country. I also had a liter of water and some insect repellant. Finally, I was carrying the last few items I was going to need for the job – a small radio transmitter, a radio repeater, and handheld television receiver.
    I arrived at the farm about ten minutes before sunrise. The SUV was still in the barn, just as I had left it. I slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, opened the car door and got in. The SUV started right up. I drove through the passes to the hilltop overlooking Ternos. The view was glorious. Despite the scenery, H wouldn’t have been happy – it was too early in the morning for her. Off in the distance was an enormous yacht. Whether the Prince was on it or