Barra da Tijuca, Rio de Janeiro

But in contrast to what the end of the last chapter implied, Enzo had other plans. Oh, sure, he stayed the night at Russia's, indeed. But in the days that followed, he made sure to track the van with the cell phone locator of the doorman. The day after the shooting, Vini knocked on his door, but there was no answer. He imagined he would find him after all, but Enzo might have chosen to sleep with a pretty girl as was the case of Russia.

At school, the situation became more intriguing. Upon meeting her again, Vini wanted to know about Enzo, who didn't show up for class that day.

- He has a pain in his pancreas. - she said.

Oops.

- Excuse me?

- He woke up with a lot of pain in his pancreas. He said he needed to stay in bed.

- So...?

- Don't worry. He is at home receiving care from Albania.

Many things were already wrong in that sentence, but the consensus was that Enzo couldn't spend much time with Russia, Italy and Belgium's sister without giving her something in return, which could only mean one thing...

- You left Enzo alone with a nymphomaniac?

- Oh, stop the baloney. Even Enzo isn't that stupid to sleep with Albania.

But as it turned out, he is.

- I'll give him a call just to make sure.

Vini tried, but got nothing. Oh, there was a moment when he needed to forget a little about his friend, because Belgium wanted to give him all the affection he needed after going through a traumatic event.

- How are you? - she asked, worried.

- I'm fine. - Vini answered with a smile. - I'm just worried about Enzo. He loves that place, I feel he might do something dumb.

Dumb was certainly not the word Enzo would have chosen. While Vini was attending math and history classes, Enzo was spying on the black van and the motorcycles going in and out of Rocinha. He initially followed the tracker to a garage away from the other houses below. He hid behind some bushes and low trees. He wrote down the departure times of the van and the motorcycles in a small notebook. 10:15, departure of the van and motorcycles, he wrote. Looking to the side, he noticed a bicycle leaning against a post, with no chain or supervision. Well, now, what could he do? Noticing the owner's lack of attention, he took it for a quick ride to check the van's final destination. Thanks to the congested traffic in the slum, it was not too difficult to stay close.

- I'm going to get you, you son of a bitch! - Enzo said.

The van stopped in a small public park, near the bus stop on the way up the Estrada da Gávea. Two men got out of the back and walked west up General Olímpio Mourão, parallel to Ivan Lins Avenue. For some reason, they turned left on Rocinha's Via Appia, the main commercial street in the neighborhood. But Enzo was not going to let those two get away so easily. Without calling attention to himself, he began to follow them from a distance, but considerably closer so as not to lose sight of them.

While spying on them, Enzo understood the duo's modus operandi. From door to door, they would collect money from the business owners. Enzo didn't have an exact understanding, but he knew that the drug dealers demanded a certain amount of money from the population in exchange for protection and other services such as electricity, water, and pay TV channels. So far, nothing unusual, until he reached the last stand. There was some confusion during the delivery. One of the men got stressed and a shot was heard in the street, which scared Enzo and the other dealers.

- Fucking hell! - shouted Enzo.

- Yeah, boy. The police are against us. - Said an elderly man, standing right next to Enzo.

- Sorry?

- They are fucking cops. They come here to take money from the population to feed the traffic. It's the militia.

- Does it happen frequently?

- Every Thursday, about every two weeks.

- Those same dudes?

- Every now and then a different one shows up. But those two worms usually show up more often.

Enzo remained silent for a while, because he wanted to ask this gentleman if he knew a little more about what he was telling him, or if he just wanted to get something off his chest.

- I've lived here for 40 years, young man. There is a lot of violence here! It seems that a criminal group wants to take control of the drugs and weapons.

- Has it been a long time?

- About two months. Young man, if I can give you some advice, get out of here as soon as possible. Everything is fucked up.

- Yeah, I understand.

No, you don't.

- Do you live nearby?

No.

- Yes. Over there... - Enzo pointed randomly to the other side.

- Try not to talk to the police. If they catch you, who knows what might happen to you. I'm not shitting the police, they get a shit of a payment per month and most of them die young. But, be smart.

- Okay, thanks. - Enzo was grateful and continued his pursuit.

The van returned to its starting point, the garage. The two men got out of the van, while Enzo returned to his improvised hiding place. A few minutes later, the two motorcycles drove up Gavea Road, the same path that Vini and Enzo had taken the day before. It could not be a mere coincidence.

Going up the hill on a bicycle demanded a lot from his physique. His legs still hurt from crawling on the ground to escape the gunfire. Enzo couldn't take it anymore and just wanted to relax, but he knew that this would be his best chance. If he lost them, it could be the end. So he would not give up. And he was rewarded. The two motorcycles stopped in the same place he had been and almost died. The same man - the voice - received a sealed package from the bikers. Enzo could not tell what was inside that box. Maybe money, or drugs, who knows.

- Shit. - He said, as he was almost found out.

The two motorcycles took the same route back. But Enzo took a more radical approach. In another genius idea, he tried to enter through the back of the house. But to do so, he would have to climb at least five meters of stone to the wooden base that served as support for the floor under the balcony. At several moments his body swung like a pendulum, a huge abyss just below could seal what could be considered an interesting life.

- Holy fuck, Enzo. - He whined - What the fuck are you doing?

He looked down. His arms began to feel tired and the sweat from his hands became a worry. He felt like he was going to slip and fall.

- God damn it! - he shouted. - I think I'll die awake! All I didn't want.

Still, he tried to find the strength to climb to the foundation of the house. Then, after much effort, he made it. Before he got up, he lay on the balcony, breathless. He was almost dying of exhaustion. He had no more energy, but then he thought about Lake and his home devastated by the shots and destruction. Rest could wait until later. Slowly, he opened the glass door of the balcony and hid in the curtains. He began to hear the voice of the man in the flowered blouse.

- I got you, motherfucker!

The man was talking on his cell phone to someone, but he didn't seem very happy. He kept shouting and stamping his feet on the wooden floor.

- I don't give a fuck! Do something about it! These sons of bitches have military weapons! I don't know about the kids, but who the fuck cares? We have the weapons.

Enzo remembered a detail. The weapons that Suzane asked to carry might have belonged to this "voice". But Enzo wanted to have the name. He looked around, looking for any information or clues. Except for some damaged furniture, the place looked strangely clean, until Enzo noticed the glass table. A photograph. Of the voice hugging Suzane like two long-time colleagues. Something was not right.

- Holy shit!

To him, this was confirmation that Pacifier's mother was indeed involved in some evil plot to murder them, for some reason. So he asked them to go to Rocinha to deliver weapons. It could even be washing powder, it wouldn't make any difference. The plan would fail and the voice would murder them. Game over. Is that right? No. Why? Well, Enzo and Vini lived. The question would be: for how much longer?

- Marcos. - Enzo heard for the first time the voice reveal his name. - I got you.

Well, sort of. Anyway, Marcos looked concerned. Tense. At the end of the call, he threw the cell phone in the direction of the rooftop terrace. Enzo followed the device with the eyes, gliding through the air at high speed until it fell down the hill.

- Time to get the hell out of here. - he said.

He looked around. He needed a reason to distract Marcos. About two meters away he found a piece of wood. Enzo knew that this would be his best chance to get out alive. So he picked it up and threw it forward, right at the light fixture, which made a loud noise and began to swing.

- What the fuck? - Marcos was startled.

With the distraction, Enzo returned to the terrace, but he still had to go down the hill outside the residence. Oh, man, what was he thinking? Anyway, he put his first foot into a hole in the rock. When he felt firm, he put his second foot in the hole a little further down. Still holding on to the supporting wood, he heard Mark's footsteps going out to the balcony, looking for the real reason for the banging in his living room.

- Good Lord. - Enzo said, starting to feel cramps in his arms.

Several meters up, Marcos had no idea that Enzo was hiding just below his feet, but his situation was going from bad to even worse. A small bird landed on his head. Enzo immediately expected the absolute worst.

- Oh, fucking hell! Shoo, bird! Go away!

Nothing happened. The bird nailed its claws into Enzo's hair, almost in retaliation. It tried to blow, to shake his head, his neck, but the bird kept still. So he gave up. He continued his descent with the infamous bird over his head. About fifteen meters from the ground, the bird finally flew away, probably tired from the trip, but it was not the end. Enzo had slipped and rolled down the mountain like a human snowball. His body only ended up in the street, almost being run over by a BMW HP4 Race. The motorcyclist got off his bike and quickly checked on Enzo.

- Are you okay?

Oh, that man had a thin voice. Or maybe...

As he took off his helmet with the dark visor, the motorcycle owner's beautiful long blond hair was revealed, as well as her blue eyes, porcelain skin, and thin nose.

- Are you alright?

- Not actually, no. - Enzo would not miss the opportunity. - I'm in a fair bit of pain.

- Poor thing. What happened to you?

- I went to climb the rock and my equipment broke. Dumb me.

- You shouldn't climb here, kid. It's too dangerous.

- More dangerous than messing around on a racing bike that costs almost half a million?

- I like speed.

Oh, jackpot for Enzo. All that was left was for the machines to start screaming.

- Where do you live?

- Barra da Tijuca.

- If you want, I'll take you back. Or, you can stay at my house until your pain is gone.

Ding, ding, ding!