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"My mobile rang. It was Rachel. "I'm going to hear a visiting poet read. You'll want to get here to hear him, too." Who is it?" Angus Sinclair from Wo...longong." Really? I haven't seen him in – oh – 15 years." That's why I'm calling. I'll meet you in 20 minutes at the Cultural Centre, okay?" Right. I'll put on clean clothes."Oh my, I thought. Angus Sinclair. Martha's Angus. [see "Aftermath"] Still at Wollongong. I got into a pair of chinos and a clean shirt and walked over, considering how small. The Chechnyan Mafia was ruthless. They slaughtered their way to power and they held onto power by being more willing to dole out punishment than the other guy.In my mind, the Chechnyans were the offshoot of my father in his later years. They were absolutely amoral. They had no guilt, no guile and no humanity.I knew my only course of action would lead me down a primrose path but I could see no other way around it.I snuck back into the bank and waited in the lobby for the man I had seen to. More

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