"We've put the house under surveillance. It's an old, colonial-style mansion surrounded by nice gardens. There's a wall around it, but it's the only security measure they have. This means we already have footage of Afonso and some of the kids. We've been able to link them to the database of missing children. Some of them have been missing for a few years, but some have only disappeared weeks ago."
"Fred, I know what you're going to say, but I'll ask you anyway. Will I be able to see the footage?"
He looked at me but didn't make eye contact for long.
"Tiago, I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head.
I was expecting it, but it still didn't stop me from being disappointed. I was dying to see my brother's face and see for myself that he was alive and well.
It didn't take long to check out the center because Fred already knew it so well. He was less familiar with the rooms upstairs, but he was happy we had enough space to keep everyone in this location.
"How about the kids that are staying here?" he asked.
"They're all in accommodations at different hostels this week. We can arrange for them to stay longer if we need to."
"I don't know how quickly we can arrange the rescue operation. This involves several authorities, which means working on someone else's timeline. It could take a few weeks to get it all in place."
"Don't worry, I'll work things out with the kids at the center."
Fred made a move to leave, but I held his arm to stop him. I knew the risk he'd be taking, but the big brother in me would never give up asking.
"Fred, is there any way at all I could see just a picture of his face? The thought that he's out there in some house having to do god knows what is crushing me. I can't wait weeks. I need to see he's okay."
Fred took a deep sigh and then looked at his watch. "Okay, but you have to promise to do what I say."
I nodded.
My anxiety spiked as we drove to Fred's office. The prospect of seeing my brother was exciting, but I was also afraid of my reaction to it.
We parked in an allocated space by the front entrance.
The building that housed Fred's unit was not what I expected. It looked like a regular office building. In fact, it looked like they shared facilities with accountants, lawyers, and even a marketing company.
"We have to be discreet because of what we do. It's better to blend in with the rest. As far as everyone knows, we're an IT company specializing in web security. I need you to stay in the car and wait for me here."
I did as I was told, and fifteen minutes later, Fred left the building and got back in the car, driving us away immediately. He didn't stop until we were a few blocks away.
He took a laptop out of a case and turned it on. A few minutes later, once he'd gone through a lengthy logging in process, I saw the screen fill up with the images of a house.
The house where my brother lived, goodness knew for how long. The gardens looked very well kept. Anyone looking at the footage would be shocked to know what went on inside.
"Is that a live feed?" I asked.
"Yes, we've got the gardens that surround the property covered. Some of the cameras have been able to catch images of the inside through the windows, but when the sun shifts, the reflection makes it difficult."
Fred showed me the angle from each of the cameras. I didn't see anyone until we got to the last one. The camera was pointed at the back of the house where there was a large set of stairs from the top floor leading down to the lawn. Halfway down the stairs, I saw a figure sat down with his elbows on his knees and his head resting on his hands.
"Is that him?" I wasn't sure why I asked, because I knew it was. Even though I hadn't seen my brother in eight years, I knew it was him.
I may as well have been punched in the gut or have had my heart ripped out for how painful it was to see him through the screen and not be able to touch him.
"Look up," I whispered. Fred's arms came around my shoulders, and I leaned in to take the comfort he was offering.
After a few minutes, I saw a kid come down the stairs and sit next to Afonso. He wasn't older than fourteen or fifteen.
When my brother looked up at the kid, my heart stopped. Fred had been right; he looked exactly like me, but he also looked a lot younger than his twenty-one years.
"Can you zoom in?" I asked.
