MARIA
Robbie left his father’s hotel after midnight. Kathmandu slept. The way from Thamel to Freak Street led through some of the city’s oldest thoroughfares. He was cold, but his mind was clear. His father had been a drug smuggler. His father had been involved in the death of several people. One of his father’s best friends had gone crazy, missing, and been presumed dead for twenty-five years. And had returned from an unknown grave, by e-mail. One hell of a story.
Robbie made a wide circle around a small group of cows standing asleep in front of a modest temple in Chhetrapatri. Rats scurried across the road ahead of him. Robbie suspected that there was more to all this. More than his father had told him, probably more than he could tell him. It felt …orchestrated, staged, too good to be
