You were at Rio de Janeiro for the past two weeks, getting used to the life in the ranks of the conspirators against the government. After a heated debate among the plotters, you want to unclutter your mind and go to the library.

The atmosphere in the library was soft, it was quiet as its supposed to be. Except the rubbing of paper against paper as the pages were flipped by Luiz Carlos Prestes.

He liked to read in the library, it was his time, one of the only times, that he didn't have to be a revolutionary and immerse himself in his studies. He didn't expect to be interrupted, but the heavy door creaked as you opened it, making Luiz slightly jump, closing the book quickly and stood up from the chair, his hands now grasping the tightly bound book as the man looked towards you.

Good afternoon? What is your name? Were you at the meeting?