Winter had not been pleasant. I had expected the hot Summer, then the warm Autumn, not the miserable, wet, stormy, Winter. The Azores High had decided to move South dragging down the Jet Stream and giving us the succession of winds and weather fronts from the West that is normally experienced in the climatically challenged islands anchored off the Northwest corner of Europe. Up there we know how to deal with it; our houses are better, roads are designed to carry water away quickly from the surface, our shops even carry a better range of Winter clothing. Lisbon was different and I rarely experienced such a miserable few months in my quarter-century as a living organism on the surface of the third planet from the Sun.

And I was lonely, cut off from the friends that I had built up in the latter few years of that same quarter-century. I worked hard at the language, which is renowned for being particularly difficult, but of necessity my facility was still limited after only nine months. This was no great issue with the group of friends that I met through Adelaida and Lorena; they all spoke good English, so good in fact that it inhibited my learning Portuguese. Nor was it an issue in going out as virtually all front-of -house hospitality staff also spoke English. It was a barrier at the shooting club that I joined, as was my uncertain gender. All my documentation and my presentation said female; my voice, especially when struggling in a foreign (to me) language, said male.

And the legal situation was changing. Since 2018, a medical report was not required to register a change of gender. A bill now working its way through the Portuguese legislative system would reinstate this requirement. Parallel legislation would prevent under eighteens from taking puberty blockers or legally changing their gender. Whereas probably none of this would directly impact me, it all contributed to a feeling that a backlash was in the making and I had perhaps not chosen my location well.

But my biggest problem was uncertainty. I had never answered Jacinta’s question about my gender, and the more I considered the matter, the less able I was becoming to give a coherent answer. I was still confused about the difference between sexuality and gender, but was coming to the view that my place was with Jacinta, Adelaida, Lorena and the rest of their Sapphic sisters. I was increasingly coming to feel that I was a woman, not simply acting the part, and had no desire to return to being a full-time male. One significant drawback to my current situation was that my target market for partners had dwindled to what appeared to me to be the very small number of women who were prepared to “date” a pre-op trans-woman.

Counselling and the medical profession were of limited assistance in resolving my uncertainty. The counsellor simply returned the problem to me; at the end of the day, it would be what I really wanted to do. The medics were happy enough to prescribe hormones but did warn me that this would have deleterious effects on my ability to raise the flag. Torn between two desires, I floundered and flopped around, and avoided making a decision.

Christmas was the nadir: Fortunately it is not such a big deal in Portugal as in the Anglo Saxon world and I ended up having Christmas lunch in a restaurant with Lorena and some of her friends who did not feel they would be welcomed at home, or simply preferred to spend the low-key holiday with likeminded friends. Before going out, I had a lachrymal telephone conversation with my parents & had to remind myself that, in many ways, this situation was harder on them than on me. At least lunch was good: I avoided the cod, dearly beloved by the Portuguese, settled for duck, drank too much wine, before we all retired to one of the girl’s apartments. The following day was Friday and, unbelievably for me, they were all working, so we ended up walking each other home around midnight. I ended up staying with Lorena and heading back to my apartment as she was heading off to work. I was glad that I didn’t spend the night alone.

Then Jacinta called on 29th December. This had to be important; most routine work would be deferred to the New Year.

“Hi, how are you?”

“Good, and you?”

“Good; we have a date.”

I suspected that she wasn’t telling me that we were going out to dinner or the movies.

“What date?”

“Trial date for the shooter.”

“When?”

“March, 19th. Criminal Courts.”

“So, when do you bring me home?”

“Not sure yet. In the meantime, I’m planning to come out to visit you. I’ve been moved to the Witness Protection team and we normally visit once or twice a year.”

“OK; will look forward to that. When?”

“Tomorrow; can I stay with you?”

“Of course. How come so soon?”

“Ground handling strike New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day!”

We chatted for a few more minutes and then rang off. Her sudden decision to visit didn’t seem warranted so I reckoned that either she had to make sure to visit me before the end of the year to fill some nearly neglected Department quota, or she was at a loose end and had decided to have a holiday at the expense of the State. Either way, I didn’t mind; she knew that there was only one bed in my apartment.

*************************************

Jacinta arrived at the apartment at around 5PM, looking tense, parked her wheeliebag in the corridor and flopped down on the couch: I reckoned that she had had a bad trip. We were almost a matching pair; both in denim minis, opaque blue tights, just different tops. I joined her with two glasses of Glenmorangie.

“OK; what’s the real story?”

“Other than that I wanted to see how my favourite protectee is doing? Aren’t you pleased to see me.”

“Of course I am… any time; but it’s all very sudden.”

“Well… I do have some news as well.”

“Go on, tell me.”

“Well, the case against the shooter is open and shut; we could do without your evidence.”

“It doesn’t much matter; that’s not why they’re after me. But why bring me back so? It’s very expensive if I’m not needed, not that I don’t want some time at home.”

“The Defence might call you anyway, just to cast doubt, just to get you to say that you don’t recognise the defendant. But that’s not why we want you back.”

“I’m waiting; if you don’t tell me I won’t refill that glass.”

She had already demolished most of her whiskey.

“Well, you know we’ve arrested a lot of the Kingston gang over the last year.”

“Yes; I've been following the news on that… actually with more than just a passing interest.”

“They have very few guys left who could carry out a hit, and we’ve most of them under surveillance.”

“What’s all this got to do with me? Are you telling me that it’s safe to come home?”

I refilled her glass and topped up mine. I sat down on the arm of the couch.

“No, but that’s the point. If you were at home, one of the immediate family would probably try to… eh… try to …”

“Kill me? Is that what you’re dancing around?”

She nodded.

“Because they are on the ropes, and need to try to reestablish credibility, they might try. And they would likely have to do it themselves; we’ve really thinned them out.”

“Are you seriously asking that I go back as a target so that your lot can catch them trying to get me?”

She nodded again.

“Look, it’s not my idea, way above my pay grade. You don’t have to… it’s just they thought, you being a Reserve officer and all, that you might be prepared to… eh … help.”

I said nothing for a few minutes; she knew that I was thinking and left me at it. Eventually I broke the silence:

“I might agree, but I’ll need to sleep on it.”

“Who said that I was going to let you get any sleep?”

She leaned back her head; some of the tension was gone from her face.

“You were worried how this conversation would go?”

“Yeah; ever since I heard the plan.”

“Why’d you have to tell me? Surely the genius who thought it up should have come out here him or herself.”

“Then you’d have to talk to the invisible man, or woman. Unless it’s wildly successful in which case it’ll have been the idea of at least a Chief Superintendent!”

I went around the back of the couch and started to give her a neck rub. She was a bundle of knots. After a few minutes she opened her blouse to let me get further down her back. Naturally I opened her bra…

*****************************

We woke late the next morning; we had no pressing engagements and had gotten to sleep rather late. I stayed in my nightdress as I prepared breakfast while Jacinta had her shower. Eventually we both sat down to pancakes with maple syrup, bacon and a pot of coffee. I reckoned we’d need it. Breakfast finished, we got down to business.

“How would all this work? I presume I’ll have to revert to being Jos?”

“Yes; the Kingstons have no knowledge of Jesse.”

“None that we’re aware of at least.”

“Well, we know that they have a contract on Jos, with no mention of Jesse.”

“OK, I go back home. What then?”

“We challenge them.”

“ÒK, we all line up, at the Joust and I hit the Boss with an armoured gauntlet across the face!”

“Exactly! Alternatively, as there is no joust scheduled for the next few centuries, we might simply tell the press that you’re back. We’ll explain that we’ve degraded the Kingston organisation so badly that you’re no longer in any real danger.”

“That’ll get right up their noses!”

“Either they move on you, or they’re toast. They can’t operate without the element of fear.”

“So Jos comes home, moves into his old apartment, it’s all set up with buffalo-proof doors, cameras and bullet-proof glass, and you tail him in his armoured car whenever he goes out. Won’t the Kingstons see the tail?”

Jacinta didn’t answer; she was looking at me, half smiling, half curious.

“You know you’ve talked about Jos in the third person… like he’s someone else? Are you really Jesse now?”

My turn to pause.

“I don’t know, seriously, I don’t. I’ve been living with the same question for months now… tried counselling, visited a doctor who deals with Trans. To put it crudely, I need to either pee or get off the porcelain. In fairness, you did see it coming.”

“OK, maybe we deal with the Kingston problem now, then we can talk about Jesse and Jos afterwards?”

“Suits me.”

“Right, Jos goes back to his apartment; cameras, yes; buffalo-proof door, yes; windows, no, you’re not overlooked; car, we’ve no access to that type of kit. You’ll have a bullet proof vest and close protection at all times.”

“Close protection will be obvious!?”

“Not if it’s your new partner.”

“Partner? Girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

I was hoping that this question was superfluous. She looked a bit nervous.

“You OK with me doing that?”

“What do you think! Of course I’m more than happy with that. But won’t you be known to the Kingstons?”

“Not really. Before you turned up they had no profile in my division area; more Inner and North City types. They are no more likely to know me than any other detective in the force. Most importantly, no pictures of me were published after the car park incident.”

“Internal leaks? Your colleagues will recognise you.”

“We’re putting about a casual story internally that you and I hooked up when you were in protection, and I’ve now left the force under a bit of a cloud and am working with you in cybersecurity.”

“At least it has the virtue of being partially true. Why you? I thought that they would have tried to pass this to Armed Response.”

Jacinta laughed.

“Well, they had to try to persuade you to cooperate, and given that you’d demanded that I be involved in your Protection arrangements, they figured that I was best placed for the job. I was even sent on a close protection course.”

I poured some fresh coffee; if I keep drinking it at this rate I won’t sleep for a week.

“If I’m officially back, I will have to visit my family. Would that put them in danger?”

“Same as before, there’s no track record of these guys going after family members, partners, friends. They have occasionally mistaken friends for accomplices, but that’s hardly likely to apply to you.”

“Two more questions: First, what happens if they simply ignore me?”

“Well, that’ll prove the case in relation to it’s being safe for you to return. If there’s no hit, it’s probably only a matter of time until they either leave the country or get hit themselves.”

That sounded eminently logical; I had probably foreseen the answer.

“Last question for now; what happens if they try and fail? How can you be sure that you’ll have enough evidence to put them away?

“I don’t know; I’m not included at that level.”

Again, I had expected this, but was not prepared to live with that situation if I was to play ball. Time to take a break:It’s good to refresh the mind when grappling with problems.

“Fancy a walk? There’s a nice walk along the river close by.”

“I will need to get back to the Superintendent sometime.”

“Tell him or her that I’m very nervous and thinking about it. I’ll have a lot of conditions if I do agree.”

“It’s a he; I’ll call him while you’re getting ready.”

I was still in my nightdress, the same black satin nightie that I’d been wearing when Annette called to my room back in the safe house.

“Just add that you were working on me most of the night and that you’ll send him the overtime bill!”

“I’ll wait until I’ve it all consolidated; should be a good paycheque!”

I slipped off for my shower. Shaving was getting easier as I had managed to work an almost weekly electrolysis session into my routine. This hadn’t been easy as I had to attend each session with two days beard growth which required my remaining in purdah for the two days and sneaking out of my apartment re-disguised as a male. It was worth it, whatever my eventual decision would be. This time I shaved carefully, showered, and spent some time over my makeup. Besides feeling good when well turned out, I was also conscious of maintaining an illusion when with Jacinta. Eventually, all made up, I opted for a tan tunic-dress worn over a green blouse, opaque tights and brown, kitten-heeled, ankle-boots. This height heel worked well for me, not so high as to make me too tall, not so low as to leave me flat-footed. The day was warm enough; in case it rained I put my lightweight waterproof jacket into a small rucksack along with a bottle of water, my phone and wallet, and carried my SIG in a small Delsey bag worn across my right shoulder. Jacinta didn’t have much gear with her so came in her denim mini and her normal shoulder bag.

It didn’t take us long to reach the river and stroll along on our outbound leg. We knew that we could not talk business out-and-about like we were and there was an elephant walking with us that needed some attention. Jacinta broke the ice asking for news of her friends:

“Any word from Lorena and Adelaida?”

“I see them from time to time; actually spent Christmas day with Lorena and some of her friends.”

She didn’t ask where I had stayed that night, not that that would be a problem.

“And is Jos ever around?”

“Only when I sneak him out to go to electrolysis.”

“Electrolysis?”

“Yes; I’m getting rid of my beard. Takes forever”

“Painful?”

“A bit.”

We strode along in silence for a while longer. Unusually for this winter, the weather was warm and calm; Lisbon at its best.

“Will you miss Jesse when you go back?”

“I’ll bring her with me, or maybe Jesse will go home disguised as Jos.”

“Are you really Jesse now?”

“I think so, but it would be very difficult to be her full-time back home.”

“What’s the most difficult part?”

“Parents; I’m their only child. They would be so disappointed, both with me and for their no-longer-possible grandchildren.”

“You know the grandchildren issue can be gotten around?”

“Technically, yes. But there’s also the issue of needing a woman to make it all happen!”

“A female partner perhaps?”

“Maybe; all very theoretical at the moment.”

We walked along, closely, like partners or lovers. A light breeze was blowing along the river, some small clouds floating overhead.

“Beside the parents, what other problems would Jesse have?”

“Besides the usual prejudices you mean?”

“It’s not really an issue now for us LGBTQIABCXYZ folks; it’s not like twenty years ago.”

“Probably right for everyone except Trans folks.”

“Gender recognition is simple enough now.”

“Legally, yes. But look what’s happening here. There is a new requirement for medical confirmation for instance. There could be a backlash at home yet. And there’s a part of the feminist movement that’s completely anti-trans. But that’s not my main issue.”

“OK, tell me… or maybe I can guess.”

“Go on so, guess.”

“You like girls, not like the macho types, building up a body count. You like to hang out with girls, be with girls, sleep with girls. Have you any really close male friends?”

“Not really.”

“Female?”

“Yes.”

“Can I diagnose you?”

“Yes; but I think I know the answer.”

“Lesbian?”

“Exactly!”

“Just in case you hadn’t noticed, girls can have a lot of fun with girls. You don’t need to hang on to it.”

We walked on for a while and passed a small café that I liked.

“Fancy a hot chocolate or something? If I’ve any more coffee I’ll be wired.”

We got two chocolate quente sem natas (hot chocolate without cream) and sat outside watching the world go by. Actually there was not a lot of walkers around. Two men, tourists not locals, sat down outside the café as well so we couldn’t really discuss anything serious. We made some small-talk as we enjoyed our hot chocolate, then, quite out of the blue, Jacinta leaned over and gave me a deep kiss. As she was surfacing she whispered into my ear:

“Those two guys keep starting at us; hopefully they won’t feel the need to try to chat up two lesbians!”

I had my back to them and couldn’t turn around to check them out. We stayed for another few minutes then got up to resume our walk.

“Did we put them off?”

“Nope; stayed focussed on us all the time. Creeps!”

I leaned on her shoulder and pretended to adjust my boot, taking the opportunity to glance behind.

“Even creepier; they’re following us.”

We walked along, checking billboards and posters, pretending to take pictures, all to give us a chance to keep track of our pursuers. They weren’t getting closer, just maintaining their distance.

“What the f*** are they up to? I made sure I wasn’t followed from the airport to your place.”

“Nobody would have known to follow you from the airport anyway; you’re not associated with my case and only your lot would have known that you were coming here.”

“Maybe they’re just creeps.”

“Will we check? I could call the PSP.”

I had an emergency number to call as part of the Protection arrangement.

“Let’s check first; this way.”

Jacinta turned suddenly away from the river and started to walk towards the city; I followed suit. We checked behind us; nobody following.

“Are we getting paranoid?”

She thought for a moment about my question:

“Maybe a little bit of paranoia will come in useful when we get back home.”

We made our way back to the river walk and retraced our way back towards my apartment. When we turned into the city again we doubled back twice in the streets to ensure we weren’t being followed and finally returned to the apartment. Breakfast had been rather late and long so we decided to skip lunch and go out early for dinner. As it was New Year’s Eve, most places would be fully booked, but I was relying on the Portuguese habit of eating late and getting in before the main rush. Eventually I got a place on the strict understanding that we would have vacated the table by 7:30pm.

I texted Adelaida and Lorena,

Jacinta in town for a few days if it suits to meet up

Then we got back down to business.

“OK; here’s what you tell your Superintendent. I’ll do it on the following conditions: First; we’re both to be brought into the intelligence loop. I’m not going to be the bait unless I know whether it’s a wolf or a hyena that’s after me. You need the same information to do your job as well.”

“OK; they won’t like that but we’ll see.”

In reality I actually expected the police to lie about this point and assure me that we would get all the information, but only give as little as they thought that they would get away with.

“Secondly, I want to be activated in the military. It gets around the issue of my being armed, gives me a salary, and means a payout for my family if this goes pear-shaped. I know the military will have no issue with this.”

“OK.”

“Thirdly, I will start to rebuild my client base, so I will only do half-time working for the state in return for my military salary. It’s not a great deal for me but I’ll see how it goes.”

As an IT contractor serving private sector clients I had been earning at least three times a Lieutenant’s salary, but the military and police experience would pay dividends when normal business fully resumed and I wanted to stay current in this area.

“And finally, we need to develop an understanding on how long the close protection arrangement is retained and what the criteria are for termination.”

“How about until I get fed up living with you?”

“Hmm, that could work either way!”

A text had come in from Adelaida:

How about dinner and a club tomorrow night?

I showed the text to Jacinta before replying with a thumbs up; we could work out the details later.

“Are you going to contact your Superintendent?”

“At this time on New Year’s Eve?”

“Sorry; forgot the day.”

“You did notice the fireworks display being prepared at Praça do Comércio? We did walk right past it!”

I could only shake my head; truth was I was a bit distracted. Maybe more than a bit; was I mad agreeing to be the bait in an operation which could prove to be dangerous, possibly fatal?

The restaurant was nearby which was fortunate as we would be coming back to the apartment for a few hours before making our way back to the river for the fireworks display. I opted for steak, Portuguese style, Jacinta had slow-cooked lamb. She made the better choice. We had a bottle of Ribera del Duero; good wine is very reasonably priced in Portugal and we reckoned the more of it we drank, the more we saved. As usual we skipped dessert and were comfortably finished by 7:30. Back in our apartment by 7:45pm, we had some time to kill before heading back out at 10:30pm for the fireworks. Jacinta decided to pass the time by showing me some of her skills in detaining and restraining suspects, telling me that my repertoire of neck jabs, eye pokes, groin kicking and shin-scraping didn’t meet the police definition of minimum force.

We almost missed the official fireworks.