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compensate for your wrist; your shoulder for your elbow; your hips for your shoulder; and eventually you’re on the floor in front of all the men in your unit.
    I see reality dawning in his eyes as he begins to yield to my pressure. Yielding to the old-timer . Our eyes are still locked when I sense the atmosphere change. A new team of tough guys break through the circle of men who are surrounding me and Paz. From within the new group the President emerges without breaking her stride. I let go of the commander’s thumb and he turns to face her.
    ‘Ma’am,’ he says, his voice laced with authority and crackling with ambition.
    She comes straight to the point.
    ‘Who was the guy with the spear?’
    ‘We don’t know for sure.’
    ‘His name is Tim Gilmore,’ I say, and everybody turns and looks at me. ‘He’s the Australian team captain. He was reported missing overnight by his coach, and we have been actively looking for him since about five a.m. this morning. His coach was concerned because he’s been suffering from some anxiety issues.’
    ‘And who are you?’ the President asks.
    ‘He’s the guy who shot the athlete,’ the tall commander says. ‘Don’t worry, we’re dealing with him.’
    The President raises an eyebrow.
    ‘You’re dealing with him?’
    ‘Ma’am, we have strict regulations that say we should shoot as a last resort. Two billion people around the world are watching on TV, and our protocols are designed to protect Brazil’s image and reputation.’
    The President shakes her head.
    ‘Your protocols nearly had me skewered.’
    She turns to me and takes hold of my hand.
    ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘Carvalho.’
    She turns away from me and holds my hand aloft, as if I’m Barão do Amazonas, the hero from classical legend, returning from Riachuelo. I’m not comfortable with it at all.
    ‘This man is a hero,’ she says. ‘Anyone who treats him differently will answer to me, understand?’
    She gives the commander a barbed look, before settling her gaze back on me.
    ‘Can I do anything for you?’
    ‘I want to know what happened to Tim Gilmore. He’s a young man and he’s trained his whole life to be here.’
    The presidential eyebrow rises in anticipation as she waits for the commander to speak.
    ‘Gilmore’s dead.’
    ‘There you go,’ the President says. ‘You did your job, Carvalho. And if you hadn’t, then I would be dead right now. Whatever happened was his choice, not yours.’
    Then she’s gone. I feel sick to my stomach, thinking about Gilmore lying dead in some other corridor nearby, while most of the people outside have no idea what has happened. I’ve shot plenty of people, but this one certainly doesn’t make me feel good.
    ‘Get a statement from Oscar Ryan,’ I tell the commander. ‘He was right next to Gilmore. Find out what he said.’
    The Policia Militar melt away without an apology and I am left facing Paz across the corridor.
    ‘Come on,’ she says in a low voice. ‘Let’s get home. At least we can beat the crowds.’

CHAPTER 5
    ‘YOU JUST SAVED the President from being killed,’ Paz says as she drives us back across the city. ‘That’s pretty good work, Carvalho.’
    In the night sky behind us, a million fireworks are exploding above the Maracanã. As Paz puts some distance between us and the burning sky, I can feel a familiar post-traumatic gloom beginning to settle.
    ‘You can’t kill a president with a javelin, in full view of a packed stadium,’ I say. ‘It’s a hopeless plan. Doomed to failure. Tim Gilmore was on a suicide mission. He must have known that someone would shoot him. It just turned out to be me. The question is: why?’
    My phone beeps and I look at the screen.
    ‘It’s from Juliana,’ I tell Paz. ‘One of the guys took her and Felipe back home.’
    I breathe out and watch the streetlights pulsing rhythmically across the dashboard.
    ‘Are you feeling alright, Carvalho? You want to stop for a beer or