What do a criminal lawyer, a former "Miss Bolivia," a gaunt federal cop, the tour guide of a luxurious cruise ship, and the Riachuelo market, this "small piece of the shaky geography of the dry riverbed that separates the vain capital of Argentina from the provincial 'no man’s land,'" have in common? Guillermo Orsi, the master of Argentine noir, relentless, sarcastic, and mocking, paints the Holy City with irreverent colors through "neighborhoods without people, with only garbage and rats," where "the little eyes of the rats shine in the mist, a deep blue mist, like spilled paint, mixed with the smoke from burning garbage." Behind the shiny tourist facade of a "country at bargain prices, where you can dance tango and eat the best free-range beef," the Holy City boils.