In fact, Justus has seen the place from his bedroom window and thought it was a church. At the door he’s greeted by Leonardo Brown and ushered up some stone steps, such as one might find in a cathedral, to a room with arched windows, paneled walls, and Renaissance paintings of devotional scenes. There’s a profusion of ferns and tropical flowers as well, along with the chatter of parrots—some of them flying directly onto the balcony to feed from seed dispensers—so the whole effect is like a monastery on the edge of the jungle. “Lieutenant, I’m so glad you came—sit down, please—can I get you a drink or something?—what happened to your foot?—oh God, this is a nightmare now—oh God, I don’t know where to begin.” She’s pacing back and forth in front of the window, talking in almost overlapping sentences. But this isn’t the same overconfident operator as before. She looks drained of color now, and her eyes are swollen, as if she’s been crying. She looks so emotional, in fact, that Justus briefly wonders if this is the same woman he met previously—if maybe that was a paid impersonator as well.
