I collapse into my armchair with such force that I’m surprised the shawl draped across the back of it doesn’t fall right off. I close my eyes, and I listen. I relish how distant the chatter, the beeping of the horns, and the rattling tram are. Here, it’s just the faint rustle of the leaves, the chirping of birds rarer than a blue moon.
And, apparently, the loud default ringing of my phone.
I groan and roll over to grab my phone from the coffee table. Tranquillity never lasts long. The call is, of course, from my trainer. I love Celina Valdez to death, but in this moment, I want to throw her phone in one of Rio’s many lakes and make sure it never sees the light of day again.
‘Tudo bem!’ Celina chirps the second I hit the greenacceptbutton. ‘I’ve been practising. Tell me that was good.’
‘It was good.’
‘Perfect. Then hit me with a reply.’
‘Well,foi beleza, until you disturbed my peace …’ I drawl sarcastically.
‘I don’t know what that means, but thank you. I love to hear that I’m excelling at my job,’ Celina shoots right back. ‘Just calling to make sure you’re aware that tomorrow’s centre orientation begins at eight a.m. sharp. It’s a brand-new facility. Let’s be on time, yes?’
‘Sure.’
‘So no partying.’
I should have seen that one coming. As much as I loved the calm of my corner of Santa Teresa, there was something about the party scene, most likely the sense of anonymity that went with a roomful of inebriated clubbers, strobe lights, and smog. I could have a good time without scrutiny or recognition (which, unfortunately, wouldn’t be happening again anytime soon).
‘Where’s this complex, again?’ I cleverly gloss over Celina’s unpopular directive.
She makes a disapproving sound. ‘Not far from some area called Urca. It’s a wonderful location.’
Celina is right about that. The views from the track will be crazy. Spaces near Ipanema get to be ridiculously crammed with tourists, but Urca is typically much less congested and can be much more low-key. Heidelberg seems to have made a wise decision.
‘Great. I’ll be there at eight.’
‘You will.’ My trainer’s proclamation sounds almost like a threat. Like I said, I can’t help loving her. ‘Because if not, you’ll have worse people to deal with than just me.’
Chapter Six
Shantal
‘Ithink this map’s upside down.’
I attempt to give the map on my phone a look from a couple of different angles, but none of it makes sense. This place, as beautiful as it is, has turned out to be a maze as complex as London.
Raya groans from the video call. We’ve never been too fond of each other, co-workers who kept one another at a distance, but I wasn’t sure who else to call. In hindsight, Raya Almeida probably should have been Conquest’s number-one choice for this job: well-travelled, social butterfly, half-Brazilian and fluent in Portuguese. She has a framed photo on her desk, where she stands at a party in a sparkly gold dress, Neymar Jr’s arm around her waist from the left, Richarlison de Andrade’s from the right. She also knows both Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, the site of the F1 race that will take place later in the year, inside out. She probably grew up next door to this Darien. I have the feeling that if it weren’t for the high quality of my workon the sim and all the sleepless nights I’d contributed to this project until we finally got to a ‘eureka’ moment, it could very well have been Raya here instead of me.
‘Your map is not upside down,’ Raya is doing a bad job at hiding her smile. ‘That’s how Riolooks. Where are you exactly, again?’
I look around for some indicator, but it’s all just people everywhere. I swear the taxi dropped me off right where I’d be staying, unless my poor pronunciation landed me somewhere else entirely. Wherever I am, it’s extremely loud, samba blaring as people congregate around small tents stocked with drinks, and yet more start to dance in the middle of the street.
‘There’s some arches here,’ I attempt. It’s the best I can do; there are, in fact, rows of arches that form what looks like an aqueduct behind the crowds and tents. ‘Old looking. People are partying here.’
‘Arcos da Lapa,’ determines Raya off-handedly. ‘Great, so you are near Santa Teresa. There’s a tram that goes over the arches, have you seen that?’
‘I think so.’
‘Good. Then what you’re going to do is—’
I wait for a directive, but none comes. Raya’s face has frozen. A little exclamation point pops up, above the wordsNo Connection.
‘Shit!’ I give my phone a desperate smack – nothing. My lifeline is gone.
With shaky hands, I turn the screen and give the photo of the map one more try, but I’ve already lost my composure. I’m working on my own here, completely and utterly. I have to keep my wits about me, or at least pretend to. I take a deep breath. Rio is huge. Where am I, even? Santa Teresa, what is that?
