The cop leaning on the door of his patrol car smoked a cigarette under the Avenida Mosconi bridge is dimly aware of a car zigzagging along Avenida General Paz at 140 k.p.h. He ought to pull out a call for the driver to be pulled in for speeding and reckless driving. Instead, he prefers to take another lungful of his ghastly blond tobacco. Some day he’s going to give up smoking, he tells himself, but when? Not as long as he’s a policeman, that’s for sure.

  In the boot of the car veering from one side to the other as it careers down the highway, its driver skilfully dodging all the traffic, is Matias Zamorano. His hands are tied; he is gagged and blindfolded. He is not…..

Holy City



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