Chapter 42

Under the hot sun, wearing the jeans and jacket of last night, and with the characteristic odor of Maresia reaching where Picasso had parked his motorcycle "inside a small courtyard behind a factory, hidden enough for him to inform me of what should be done and wait for the arrival of his security guards", I took a while to find words in the face of my indignation because of the absurdity

Picasso had informed me of the plan while driving to the beach, cutting the way in his favela through the alleys and alleys with barricades that prevented the entrance of the police with cars. He managed to blend easily with the other vehicles in the city, without raising any suspicion of who he really was under that black helmet.

We left towards the beach along with his security guard escort, who used the same car I saw Neguinho using to pick up Mariana. I didn't find any sign of the police on every street we passed, but it was a momentary relief to be able to see the wo