Another extract from Bromo Book #6 – a work in progress:

THE Richard Watkins he had just claimed to be had long vacated the address Bromo had given to the cops.

Departed this life completely, unmourned and unmissed, as an untidy package Bromo had left in a two-star Shanghai hotel room for the embassy’s removalists to collect and dispatch with their usual rapid efficiency.

A traitorious name to adopt and he wondered why it had come so quickly to mind. More guilt? But I was just following orders, your Honour.

Bromo knew this bundle of puzzles was only part of his problem. A far bigger dilemma loomed than his musings about the whys and wherefores of Angie Ryan.

It was personal. It nagged at him throughout his winding descent into the lower town, dangerously distracting him from the hazards of broken footpaths and potholed streets.

No wonder every second person seemed to be using an invalid trolley or a walking pole. Oldies living on the edge in so many ways.

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